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THE ADOPTION 
AND OTHER SKETCHES 




Harry IvORENzo Chapin, M.D. 



THE ADOPTION 

AND OTHER SKETCHES 
POEMS AND PLAYS 

BY 

Harry Lorenzo Chapin, M.D. 




<Bi)a|nii 



Privately printed for the author in 

an edition of three hundred copies 

August, jpop 



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,H35A 

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Copyright, 1909 

BY 

H. L. CHAPIN 



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CONTENTS 






PAGE 


Preface . . . . 


9 


Autobiography 


. 11 


Prefatory Note to "The Adoption" 


17 


The Adoption 


19 


Other Sketches 




Infinite Love 


. n 


The Astecs And The Lost Atlantis 


102 


The Napoleon Dynasty 


105 


An Epitome Of Four Deceivers 


109 


Poems 




Our Needs 


121 


Noble Deeds ' . 


121 


The Past .... 


. 122 


The Profligate Son . 


122 


Life Not All In Vain 


123 


Death Must Come 


123 


Earth's Necropolis 


124 


Age ... . 


124 


The Ax . . . . 


125 


My Home Of Youthful Days 


125 


Death Is King 


126 


A Celestial Trial 


127 


On Leaving Home 


128 


While Looking At Raphael's Madonna 


129 


The Earth's Greatness 


129 


The Benediction 


130 


Man— How Small, How Weak 


131 


Conquest Of Infinite Love 


132 


Cedar Point . . 


133 


Pleasure .... 


134 


Each Plays Its Part . 


135 


'Tis All With Thee . 


136 


Life Philosophical 


137 


Ordination 


138 


Christmas Eve 


139 


Sisters Nineveh 


140 



6 CO 


NTENT 


s 






PAGE 


Poems — Cont. 


Fragments . . . . .141 


"Barkis Is WilUng" . 






142 


Reverence 






142 


This Bleak, Sad Earth 






143 


The Ocean's Necropolis 






143 


We Make Our God . 






144 


Godfrey's Christian Crusade 






144 


A Mother's Voice 






147 


The Birds . 








148 


Could I But Dream 








149 


Abnormal Dreams 








150 


The Castle 








150 


Fragment 








151 


To Mother . 








151 


Ode To The Twentieth Century 






152 


Toys . 






153 


Let Minutes Be Hours 






153 


Think Not Of The Past 






154 


The Clock . 






154 


To Mother . 






155 


The Cause I'll Leave Untold 






156 


Von Kenell 






. 157 


All Is Divine 






158 


Three Score Years Of Bliss 






. 159 


Music 






. 159 


My World . 






. 160 


Never Late . 






. 161 


You Know The Rest . 






161 


A Waltz Song 






162 


Death Of A Child 






. 163 


I Wonder . 






164 


P1.AYS 








Treva 






169 


The Man Behind The S 


screen 






188 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Portrait of Harry Lorenzo Chapin, M.D. Frontispiece 

Coat of Arms of the Chapin Family Title vignette 



PREFACE 

In compiling my poems and stories, I do it to 
gratify my own desires, and not in the expectation 
of any remuneration. 

The reader while perusing my work, I hope will 
not criticize too closely; if the metre or the diction 
is not quite to his liking, I trust he will accept that 
which pleases and pass by the remainder. If I am 
not inspired by the muse and do not execute master- 
pieces like others in the past, at least my whole 
mind and soul for the last twenty years have been 
assiduously devoted to study. 

May the reader open this book in a spirit of for- 
bearance rather than criticism. 

As Pope said. 

Help me to feel another's woe 

To hide the faults I see 
That mercy I to others show 

That mercy show to me. 



I 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

I was born in Berlin Heights township, Erie 
County, Ohio, November 13, 1872, the youngest of 
four children. My parents of whom I am very 
proud are both of good old Yankee blood. My 
mother, Nancy S. Knight, was bom in Troy, Ohio, 
and although she has attained the ripe age of 73 
years, she is considered to be one of the most volum- 
inous readers in the town of Milan, Ohio, where she 
now resides. I owe her much gratitude for her vol- 
unteered service of amanuensis since I lost my eye- 
sight. I love to hear her read, and as I have often 
told her, she seems to hear the lyre as the poet does 
when he writes. 

My father, Lorenzo S. Chapin, is the posterity of 
Deacon Samuel Chapin, the Puritan who was the 
founder of Springfield, Massachusetts. The name has 
been invested with a coat of arms. My father was 
an attorney-at-law, but practiced but a few years in 
Mattoon, Illinois, after which he returned to West 
Berlin and took up his residence at the old Chapin 
Homestead, where my brothers and sister were born. 
After having lived there a few years he purchased 



12 AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

what was known at that time as the Charles Hines 
farm, where he Hved until he died, and where I was 
born. This is a stately looking old home; the old 
brick house and the large lawn in front with the 
beautiful maple trees to embellish its general aspect 
give the whole a romantic effect. I will always have 
the tenderest regard for this home. I still can sit on 
the front stone in my pensive mood and see the one 
drive by that was the dearest to me of all the world, 
who is now my wife. Her home being but a short 
distance down the road made these surroundings 
much more pleasing. 

Since attending college at the Medical Department 
of the Western Reserve University, three years, I 
have spent the most of my time in travel, which has 
been quite extensive. With the exception of two 
countries, I have seen the entire world. These two 
are Japan and Alaska, which myself and wife are to 
visit this coming fall. I boast of having seen the 
seven wonders of the world. The traditional seven 
wonders are the Coliseum of Rome, the Colossus of 
Rhodes, the Towers of Pharos of Alexandria, the 
Temple of Karnack, Solomon's Temple of Jerusalem, 
the Hanging Gardens of Babylon and the Pyramids 
and Sphinx of Egypt. The most difficult to see of 
these are the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. I was 
twenty-nine and one-half days on a dromedary's back 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY 13 

going from Damascus, which is the oldest city in 
the world to Babylon on the Euphrates River. I 
have classed seven wonders of the world as natural 
wonders and which I have visited. These are Niag- 
ara Falls, Fingal's Cave, The Giant's Causeway, The 
Maelstrom, Old Faithful Geyser in Yellowstone Park, 
The Grand Canyon of the Colorado River in Ari- 
zona, and the Garden of the Gods in Colorado. I 
have also classed seven more wonders. I call them 
the capricious wonders of the world. They are the 
most wonderful of them all, at least I was so im- 
pressed. They are the Mount of the Holy Cross, 
Crater Lake, and its phantom ship on Mount Mazoma, 
Oregon, Paradise Valley, and Ixtaccihuatl or the 
Sleeping White Lady on the mountain with Popoc- 
atepetl as sentinel at her side. The vocal Memnon 
on the Nile that casts a vocal sound at sunrise. The 
Rock of Faces of Lake George and a brook with 
water running up hill in Yellowstone Park. They 
were all of great interest. 

On November 27, 1907, Thanksgiving Day, I 
married Anna M. Fries, who was the widow of the 
late Valentine Fries of Milan township, Milan, Erie 
County, Ohio. After two years of romantic court- 
ship, I married what I call "the idol of my soul and 
the object of my affection," for I feel I have the 
best woman in the world. Anna M. Crone was the 



14 AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

only daughter of a family of three, two brothers, 
Charlie and Albert. She was born and reared in 
Massillon, Ohio, the daughter of Mr. Frank Crone, 
who was a dry goods merchant for many years in 
Massillon, and is now making his home in Cleveland, 
Ohio. Anna Fries Chapin is endowed with an extra- 
ordinary amount of executive ability. She has car- 
ried on and settled up the estate of her husband, 
Valentine Fries, without help from any source. She 
has increased the estate, rather than diminished it, 
while she has been administratrix. She has also 
planned her home where we now live with all of 
the modem improvements of a city home. She has 
also erected a mausoleum of Tunic architecture, 
which is conceded to be one of the finest in the 
United States as a family tomb. It has nine cata- 
combs and cathedral glass under the rotunda with 
the figure of the Resurrection thereon. The doors 
are of bronze, and the tomb itself is built of the best 
grade of sandstone with mosaic floor. She dedicated 
this mausoleum to her husband, Valentine Fries, in 
the year 1906, A. D., and his remains are now de- 
posited there. 

I feel it my duty to speak of Mr. Fries here, as 
I owe him indirectly a great amount of gratitude. 
I have been able to travel and enjoy a great amount 
of pleasure, that otherwise I could not have had, had 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY 15 

it not been for the many years of hard toil that he 
underwent that I am reaping benefit from to a cer- 
tain degree. Many things that I am to do and have 
done, I could not have done, had I not had the finan- 
cial help from that source, tendered me by my wife. 
Valentine Fries was born in Alsace-Lorraine, France, 
of Huguenot parentage, and emigrated to this coun- 
try when but a child. He became a drug clerk at 
first and finally became sole owner of a grocery store 
in Milan, Ohio. He saved a few thousand dollars 
here and started to build ships on the Huron River 
at Fries' Landing, which still bears his name. Here 
is where he attained his enormous wealth. At one 
time he owned thirty-six vessels on the Great Lakes. 
He was a man of extraordinary business capacity 
and also a man of veracity and integrity. 

H. L. C. 



PREFATORY NOTE TO ADOPTION 

This is a story that has been founded on actual 
events to a great extent. I have had to alter and 
add to these at different times, but on the whole it 
is quite like the original happenings. 

While I was in Bristol, England, I was taken 
quite sick and compelled to go to the hospital. While 
there, I was placed in a room with a patient who 
was slowly dying. We became very friendly, and 
he knowing his days were few, developed a spirit of 
loquacity, which is unusual in patients of that type. 
The life he had lived was one of great interest to 
me. He felt like he must give vent to his pent up 
emotions, so he related a wonderful romance of his 
own experience. I became so interested I continued 
calling upon him after leaving the hospital and until 
he passed to a higher life. 

He made one request of me, and that was to write 
his romance in story form, informing me where I 
could obtain proof that the anti-mortem statement 
was true. To this request I gave my promise. 

H. L. C. 



THE ADOPTION 

Titus Hanlon was the only son of a well-to-do 
English family; in other words, he was a Patrician. 
His father had purchased an old manor which had 
become somewhat dilapidated. Yet, being an enter- 
prising, wide-awake man, he had improved this old 
rustic manor to such an extent that it was one of 
the most beautiful homes in Southern England. The 
lawn, consisting of several acres, was embellished 
with beds of flowers, shrubbery, and small artificial 
lakes. There was also a vista of live oak trees from 
the front drive, in the shape of a crest that led to 
the side entrance of the house. The old house was 
of colonial architecture. Eight fluted columns, with 
gable bas-relief, met the eye from its fagade. 

It was in this old, yet beautiful home, Titus first 
saw the light of day. Titus on arriving at the age 
of fourteen years, was sent to Oxford College, where 
he acquired his literary education. He then desired 
to study medicine, and his father sent him to the 
continent for that purpose. 

After devoting two years, with commendable as- 
siduity, to the study of medicine at Vienna, for some 



20 THE ADOPTION 

unknown reason he became melancholy and des- 
pondent. 

Titus had always suffered with periodical spells of 
severe pains in his head, and it was during one of 
these attacks he resorted to the use of morphine 
for relief. This, as he had often said afterwards, 
seemed to touch the spot. It not only relieved the 
pain, but relieved him of all mental anguish. From 
this on he became addicted to its use. Morphine, 
though being a powerful narcotic, acted on him as a 
stimulant. It seemed to change his whole being from 
this time on. 

Titus attended school one 3^ear more at Vienna, 
and then gave up the profession forever. He finally 
drifted back to his old home in Clifton, and the time 
seeming to pass slowly he took to reading. 

He was six feet in height, with dark hair and dark 
brown eyes, and a prominent nose. He possessed a 
very classical face. 

It was on a Sunday afternoon, Titus sat in a ham- 
mock in his father's front yard. It was in the month 
of June and all of Nature's environments were at 
their most charming period of existence. 

Titns opened a book and proceeded to read. It 
was the complete works of Lord Byron. He began 
to read Childe Harold, at first with but little en- 
thusiasm, but as he continued reading, he became 



THE ADOPTION 21 

enraptured and would read devotedly. Each day he 
would spend in the perusal of Byron's poems, until 
he could repeat many of them. This alone made him 
fond of literature. 

From this time on he read all of the poetical works 
he could get. They had so entranced him that he 
at once became inspired to write. But, he thought 
he must be more cosmopolitan, must know more of 
the world, must travel as Byron did, to write a 
Childe Harold of his own. 

In November of that same year he left Clifton for 
a tour around the world unaccompanied. Titus was 
away a year and a half. In that time he had ac- 
quired much knowledge and worldly wisdom. His 
habits being good, with the one exception, he was 
much improved in many ways by his trip abroad. 

On arriving home he spent much of his time in 
reading and waiting. One afternoon he was sitting 
on the crest of a large rock, what is known in Clifton 
as the Downs. The Dow-ns is a high level stretch 
of ground with many trees scattered about, wdth 
drives and walks cut here and there, and at its western 
edge there is a steep precipice with perhaps a drop 
of three hundred feet. At the bottom of this declivity 
runs a branch of the River Severn. This affords a 
very beautiful and romantic scene. It was on a rock 
at the edge of this precipice that Titus was sitting 



22 THE ADOPTION 

one afternoon in autumn, when the maples were 
dropping their seared, but beautiful leaves. A young 
lady was also sitting on the edge of this same rock. 
She was rather tall, with brown hair and dark eyes. 
She was very prepossessing in appearance, of a lit- 
erary turn of mind, and in many ways like Titus. 

As they were sitting there admiring the panoramic 
view of the valley, Titus abruptly spoke to her of 
its beauty, she at once replying with a kindly smile 
expressing her admiration. Almost simultaneously 
they saw love in each other's eyes. It was not long 
until they had become very much interested in each 
other. After they had spent several hours together 
and parted to meet the next day at the same place, 
they both went their way with love-gladdened hearts. 

Her name w'as Mabel Crawford. She was an 
orphan and at this time was making her home with 
an elderly aunt. Mabel was endowed with many 
qualities that were admirable. She was very pretty, 
mentally quick, and had a natural aptness she was 
anxious to cultivate as best her scant means would 
allow. She played the piano and sang very sweetly, 
and was fond of literature, especially poetical works. 
Her aunt gave her a small allowance for her clothes 
and a musical education, which she used to good 
advantage. 

Mabel and Titus met the next day at the appointed 



THE ADOPTION 23 

time and place. From then on, every pleasant after- 
noon they could be seen together, and seemed to 
know of nothing else that was going on in the world. 
They were truly each other's affinity. There was 
love at first sight. She was the idol of his soul and 
he was hers. Many missives of love were sent in 
verse and prose by the Royal mail to each other. 

Often they would drive through the parks, Mabel 
holding the reins and driving tandem. She loved 
horses so well that Titus would take pains to get the 
best stepping and most graceful appearing horses. 
They would often drive many miles into the country. 
They would take their lunch with them and stop at 
some shady nook and rest. 

It was on these occasions that Titus would make 
overtures of love to Mabel. On one of these sweet 
days before he had told her he loved her, he said, 
"Mabel, I have a secret to tell you. One, I think, 
that will be of much interest to you. It is truly a 
secret, for no one but myself knows of it." They 
were eating lunch on the green sod in the shade. As 
he was talking to her, she was in a very pensive 
mood, wondering what the secret could be. Her 
cheeks were slightly flushed, and locks of her dark 
brown tresses were blown by the breeze down over 
her sweet face, which she would unconsciously re- 
place or brush aside. 



24 THE ADOPTION 

"Mabel, can you not guess my secret? Can you 
not read my mind? Does not each and every feature 
of my face depict what I am about to tell you?" 

He pressed himself nearer to Mabel, each looking 
into the other's eyes. 

"Mabel, can you not guess?'* 

Mabel could, but wanted to hear the words spoken 
by those cupid-bowed lips. There was silence for 
a moment. 

"Mabel, I love you, I love you with all my soul,'* 
he said, as he placed his arms about her and pressed 
her to his heart with many declarations of love. 

The purest, sweetest and almost Infinite love en- 
tered into their romance at this point. It was at its 
zenith. Where now could it go? It could go no 
higher. So, like the shell shot from a cannon it will 
rise swiftly, but after it has spent its force, must 
fall in its downward path. 

One evening when Titus' father and mother had 
gone to the city of Bath to visit friends for a few 
days, they left Titus to take charge of the home. 
He was there alone, with the exception of the butler. 
The idea came to him to invite Mabel there at this 
opportune moment to see his home. As soon as his 
parents had departed he jumped into the runabout 
and brought her to the house. They spent the even- 
ing in the drawing room, playing, singing and look- 



THE ADOPTION 25 

ing over the photographs of Titus' ancestors and 
friends, also reading the genealogy of the H anions. 

Titus was always under the influence of morphine 
in the evening. Morphine sharpens the memory of 
many, and stimulates the senses, except the moral, to 
an almost abnormal acuteness. 

As darkness fell, Mabel expressed a desire to go 
to her home, but Titus insisted upon her remaining. 

"I will go, I must go. Have you no regard for 
my wishes? I will go, if I must go alone in the 
dark," she said as she rose, but Titus was reluctant 
and obdurate. Going to her he clasped her hands 
in his, and although she cried with all the emotion 
she could muster up, it was of no avail, for Titus 
would not relent. 

"You must stay here with me. I love you, I love 
you madly," he said. 

Man always kills the thing he loves, 

By all let this be heard; 
Some do it with a bitter look, 

Some with a flattering word. 
The coward does it with a kiss, 

The brave man with a sword. 

But it was love under the stimulus of morphine. 

"Titus, if you love me as you say you do, take 
me home, I implore you." 

At this moment a new idea came to him. He 
asked her to have a small glass of wine, and then he 



26 THE ADOPTION 

would take her home. Although distasteful and for- 
eign to her bringing-up, she consented, that she might 
then be escorted home as she wished. Titus excused 
himself and leaving the room procured a glass of 
wine into which he placed a small quantity of a 
reddish powdered substance, filling a glass also for 
himself. He brought them in on a tray, and giving 
her the glass first prepared, they both drank. He 
then told her to sit down for a moment, until he got 
his evening overcoat, which was upstairs. Titus went 
out, but returning just at the proper moment saw her 
as she rose to her feet and' almost swooned. He 
caught her as she fell back and carried her gently to 
a davenport nearby. 

Titus loved Mabel too well to harm her in any way 
he thought was really harmful, but, in his intoxicated 
state of mind, he thought that he would marry her, 
in any event. 

By morning the morphine had worn ofif and Titus 
was himself again. He meditated while Mabel still 
slept how he could make restitution for the past. A 
piteous sob aroused him from his dreaming. Awak- 
ened, the reality of it all flashed upon the girl. Mabel 
was polite, and she knew it was not best to expose 
Titus, for that would expose herself as well. Titus 
broke down and confessed to her that he would kill 



THE ADOPTION 27 

himself before he would do again willingly the in- 
justice he had done her. 

''Dear Mabel," he said, 'T love you; believe what 
I tell you, when I say that if I had been in my 
normal mind, I would never even have thought of 
evil. But, dear Mabel, I am addicted to the use of 
morphine, and it takes away every virtue I have. I 
bare my arms before you. See w^here I have injected 
the poison for years. I take it in the evening, and 
at that time, until last evening, I have never been 
with you. Now, Mabel, I humbly appeal to you for 
your forgiveness, for I love you and want to marry 
you. Do forgive me." 

Mabel thought for a moment, tears came to her 
eyes, for his confession had touched her heart and 
the hand she would raise to strike, she presented, to 
show in her grasp of his, her unchanging fealty. 

"Titus, I love you, I will love you still. I am 
your affianced wife, and now you seem very near 
to me." 

Titus took her in his arms at this, and tears rolled 
down his cheeks. 

'T am a brute to do as I have done, but you will 
forgive me, Mabel, you are noble and liberal ; there 
is nothing narrow in your makeup. I will always 
love you and stand by you. As you say, I feel that 
you are very near to me. 



28 THE ADOPTION 

"Oh, Mabel, if I could express my thoughts as 
they came to me this morning while you were in 
that beatific mood, let me call it! The eudemonic 
pleasure that came over me as I gazed upon that 
sleeping face, what did it remind me of — its contour, 
its calm innocence reminded me of the poet's touch- 
ing lines :'* 

And on that cheek and on that brow, 

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, 
The smiles that win, the tints that glow. 

But tell of days in goodness spent, 
With mind at peace with all below, 

A heart whose love is innocent. 

After breakfast Titus took Mabel for an auto ride 
and left her at her home. 

CHAPTER II 

Titus continued his visits for many wxeks after 
that eventful evening. He was always punctual and 
sincere from the first. On Christmas eve, Titus was 
driving with Mabel, as he had done many times be- 
fore. On this occasion, Mabel was in a despondent 
mood, and few words passed her lips. It was worry- 
ing Titus so much, that he could hardly refrain from 
asking her why she was so down-hearted. Upon his 
so doing, she made no reply, but in a moment broke 
down with emotion. Titus could not imagine for 



THE ADOPTION 29 

the life of him what could be the matter. He placed 
his arms about her and begged her to tell him why 
she was so sad at heart, which was so out of the 
ordinary with her. Mabel looked up at him with a 
peculiar expression on her face. Like a flash, with- 
out a word uttered by Mabel, Titus surmised w^hat 
the trouble w^as. 

**We must marry at once," Mabel said. 

"But the world will know even then," said he. 

"What will we do, what will we do. The world 
mu.st not know this," she wailed. 

"I know what we can do," replied Titus. "I will 
send you to London. You can tell your aunt you 
are studying music and studying to be a nurse at the 
same time. The child can and will be cared for by 
the Sisters' Home. It will be adopted by some good 
family, and then you can return home and we can be 
married, and the world will not be any the wiser." 

This was not pleasantly received by Mabel, but it 
was her only alternative. 

Titus felt the blow as much as Mabel, for he really 
idolized Mabel, and did not want to be deprived of 
her company, but arrangements must be made at once. 

The following Monday Titus gave Mabel the neces- 
sary funds to defray all expenses, and she started for 
London. 

Mabel was raised and educated in a convent until 



30 THE ADOPTION 

she was sixteen years of age, consequently she was 
a Catholic. The last words that were spoken between 
Mabel and Titus were to the effect that when the 
child was born, it should bear the Christian name of 
Titus, if a male child ; if a female, it should bear the 
name of Mabel. This Mabel promised faithfully 
to do. 

A month before the child was born Titus received 
a letter from Mabel's aunt. She knew they had been 
keeping company, and had heard something of their 
relations. In this letter to Titus she asked him to 
come to her home, saying that she wished to see him 
in regard to this matter of Mabel's being in London. 

As I have said before, one who is addicted to the 
morphine habit has neither will power nor courage. 
When trouble comes upon them they run away from 
it. Titus, on reading this letter, took on that itinerate 
vacillating habit he had once a few years before. As 
much as he disliked to leave Mabel, he could see no 
other way to do. He w^ell knew that if his parents 
were ever informed of this he would not only be dis- 
inherited, but it w^ould be the death of his mother. 

Titus prepared at once for his long voyage to Mel- 
bourne, Australia. This would perhaps be the last 
time he would ever look into his father's face, and 
he felt that now he must desert Mabel, he could 
never have courage to face her or let her know where 



THE ADOPTION 31 

he had gone, so this made it doubly hard for him to 
bear. The time for him to sail had arrived. He 
bade his parents goodbye, and suppressed the tears 
with difficulty. He must misrepresent to his parents 
by telling them he was going only to Scotland, or 
they would have remonstrated about his going to 
Australia. 

So, after taking a last look at the old home that 
was so near and dear to his boyish memory, he left 
for Liverpool, from where he sailed away from all 
he loved in this bleak, cold world, not knowing if 
he would ever return. The last thing he did before 
going on board was to drop a letter to his dear 
Mabel, telling her what he intended doing, which 
letter was as follows: 

My Dearest Mabel: On the bulwark of the ship that takes 
me from you, I write this note. I am compelled to write you 
this cruel letter. Your aunt threatened me and I have com- 
pletely lost my courage. I can see no other way but to leave 
these Albion shores forever. Mabel, how mean I have always 
been to you. It is a wonder you can still care for me. I can- 
not tell you where I am going, as I really do not know my- 
self what my ultimate destination will be. It matters little to 
me now which point of the compass I pursue; there is neither 
home, love nor felicity left for me. I am merely staying be- 
cause I cannot die. I do not consider I am living any more 
since I must leave you. My prayers will always be for you, 
dear Mabel, and I only hope you will have the brightest future 
that a woman can have. Name the baby as we arranged, unless 
Providence will intercede. We probably will meet no more, 



32 THE ADOPTION 

or hear from each other, as I feel that now I am not worthy 
of you, or to ever write you, for it would only keep you in 
sorrow. 

With all the love that a young heart can muster, and hoping 
God will have compassion on us both, I will bid you an ever- 
lasting goodbye. 
July 10, Titus Hanlon. 

As the ship was passing Land's End, which is the 
last point of EngHsh soil you can see of Great Britain, 
as the vessel circles around to enter the end of the 
English channel, Titus felt a great deal as Emperor 
Napoleon did when he was on his way to exile on 
St. Helena. As he was off the coast of France, he 
could be heard to say beneath his breath, while he 
was sitting in solitude at the aft end of the ship, 
"France, France, I shall never see the land of heroes 
more." 

Titus felt the same, as he was on his trip of self- 
exile. 

As the ship sailed away the following lines came 
to mind: 

Oh, English soil, will I never see thee more, 

Or will I never miss my mother's cheek; 
The rest is still more dear how I adore 

Through other climes I seek, my heart is sore. 

Mabel received this letter of extreme sorrow. At 
first she was delighted to receive a letter from the 
only one in the world she cared for, but as soon as 
the missive was opened, and she read its contents, she 



THE ADOPTION 33 

fell in a faint, and had to be revived by one of the 
Sisters. 

"What is the matter, dear lady," asked one of the 
Sisters when she recovered from her fainting spell. 

"Oh, nothing, nothing. I — I — Oh, my God, my 
God, do not ask me, do not ask me. Just leave me 
alone for a while, as I wish to remain in quiet." 

The Sisters made their sarto into other apartments, 
and left Mabel to her self. The bulwark of a ship 
was on her mind still. All she could think of now 
was a ship — a ship taking Titus away. For several 
days this was a hallucination with Mabel. However, 
she at length was able to continue reading the letter. 
It is useless to tell you the sorrow she underwent 
when she had read the contents of that fateful letter. 

Mabel passed the time in reading until the birth of 
her child. When the child was born Mabel was 
much pleased to know it was male, for she thought 
how much this would please Titus if he ever could 
know that he had a son by his name. This child 
would perpetuate the name of Titus Vespatius Han- 
Ion, one of Titus Hanlon's illustrious ancestors, who 
fought with Bruce of Scotland, and was a field mar- 
shal of much valor. It would please Titus so much 
to know that the child was a male, as he was so 
proud of his ancestral genealogy. 

In due time, the child was christened Titus Ves- 



34 THE ADOPTION 

patius Hanlon, as Titus had wished, and Mabel had 
promised she would do. The child had a high fore- 
head, was wide through the temples, and would, 
when developed, have a large nose. His eyes were 
brown like his father's, and no doubt his hair would 
be dark when he arrived at his father's age. 

Mabel loved this child, for it was all she had now. 
Its father had gone, the one whom she loved of all 
in the world, so she naturally felt greatly attached to 
the child. Mabel remained at the home three weeks 
after the birth of her baby boy, but at the end of 
this time must give up the last and only thing she 
loved and cherished in this world. This she was 
compelled to do, because if she took the child home 
with her to her aunt, it would disgrace her forever, 
and if she should want to go with her little treasure 
to some country where no one would know her, it 
would be impossible, for she had no means to support 
herself or the child. Consequently, she was compelled 
to leave the little orphan at the home, and she herself 
went back to the home of her aunt. 

On entering the home of her aunt Mabel was re- 
ceived rather coldly and avoided. Her aunt seemed 
to be full of apathy and indifference, until it was 
more than Mabel could bear. She felt she was now 
alone in the world without a friend or money. Mabel 
broke down and wept before her aunt, and asked her 



THE ADOPTION 35 

why she did not reciprocate her affection as she once 
did, and why was it that she was so cold. 

*'Mabel, is it true that you have been away study- 
ing to be a professional nurse, and in the meantime 
taking music?" asked her aunt. ''Mabel, answer me 
this without falsifying, and do so at once. I have 
been able to gather some very incriminating evidence 
against you. I want to know if you were not with 
Titus Hanlon the night you were away from your 
room nearly a year ago. Hanlon's butler said you 
were there with Titus, and no one else was in the 
house but you and he, except the butler. Now, an- 
swer me this, and tell me the truth, or you must seek 
a home elsewhere." 

At this Mabel placed her arms about her aunt's 
neck and told her she was decoyed there by Titus to 
see their house, and she was kept there against her 
will, which provoked her very much. 

*'Yes, you must have been greatly provoked when 
the following day you were brought home by Titus 
himself in his auto," said her aunt. 

"Yes, but auntie, you do not understand. I did 
not dare get his enmity. I was afraid it would reflect 
upon me much more than it did, by doing what I 
have just related to you." 

"You told me you were going to stay all night 
with your friend Marie Thomas," said her aunt. 



36 THE ADOPTION 

"Auntie, I did expect to, as much as I expect to 
arise tomorrow morning, but Titus kept me and how 
could I stay at Marie's? I could not tell or confess 
to you at that time, dear auntie. I assure you that 
nothing was done wrong by me going to London, as 
I have not been there with Titus, for he has left the 
country, as you know.'* 

After she had done her best by subterfuge, she 
convinced her aunt that she was as good a girl as 
ever, and her aunt took her and pressed her to her 
breast and forgave her. Mabel felt a great deal 
better now that she had won back the love of her 
aunt. She knew now that she had at least one friend. 

During the six months that elapsed from this time, 
Mabel would visit London and go to the home and 
see her dear child, all the time hoping and wishing 
and praying that Titus would write to her, so that 
she could tell him of her dear child, but there was 
never a letter or a word from him. 

It is customary in England, at all maternity homes, 
after six months, to give the children to some reliable 
married couple that will take good care of and edu- 
cate them. They advertised for a foster parent for 
this child, Titus, Jr. The advertisement was an- 
swered by many, one of whom was a Holland Dutch 
couple from Manchester, England. They lived on a 
small farm out of Manchester, sometimes called Villi- 



THE ADOPTION 37 

tacks by the English. Their names were John and 
Lena Van Rensler, good old Holland Dutch stock. 
They would not adopt the child, as John Van Rensler 
was too conscientious a man for that. He said at 
the home, 'T will take de dear chile and love him and 
take good care of him, but I cannot adopt him, for 
if he's fadder or mudder would ever want him back, 
I would not keep him from them." 

When the child was christened, one of the Sisters 
placed a scapular about his neck, with his full name 
written on it in indelible ink. It is also customary 
in England in these homes, not to let either the 
father or the mother know where the child is or who 
has taken it, although they keep a record of it them- 
selves. Mr. and Mrs. Van Rensler took the little 
orphan to raise without adoption. The child was 
in good safe hands now, and would be well taken 
care of. They soon became as much attached to it 
as if it was their own. 

Mabel was now living with her aunt on White 
Ladies' Road, Clifton, England. It nearly killed her 
to part with her child forever. The day the child 
was taken, Mabel was in one room in the home and 
the Van Renslers in the other. Titus, her little one, 
was brought to her for the last time just before it 
was given to the Van Renslers. Knowing that she 
would not see her dear one again, words could not 



38 THE ADOPTION 

picture her feelings of this last parting. She pressed 
her child to her breast and kissed it until it was 
nearly smothered with motherly affection. Crying 
and pleading with the Omnipotent God of Heaven to 
arrange that she might see her child again, the little 
one was taken from her by the attendant, after she 
had taken one of its little shoes and placed it in her 
skirt pocket. The child was carried down a corridor 
to the apartment where Mr. and Mrs. Van Rensler 
were waiting to receive it and take it home with them. 

After this sad parting, the Van Renslers with their 
little charge, went to the train which bore them to 
Manchester where the little boy was to have his future 
home unconscious of the heart he had broken. 

Mabel, this same evening, went back to her home 
in Clifton with her aunt. If she only could have told 
her aunt all, if she could have confessed the whole 
thing to her, how much relief it would have afforded 
her. If she could have done so with perfect impunity, 
she would have, on her return this very evening told 
it all to her aunt, for Mabel wanted someone to con- 
fide in, but she had no one. She, at this very mo- 
ment, came very near telling the story as it was, but 
she was afraid her aunt would denounce her for life, 
as well as reprimand her for her past conduct. She 
could not muster up the courage to tell her, so Mabel 
had to find from now on, solace in her sadness as 



THE ADOPTION 39 

best she could. She spent many sleepless nights, 
dreaming of her lover and her baby, of whose where- 
abouts she knew not. 

Can you imagine the plight of this young woman? 
Can you imagine the sorrow she was undergoing at 
this time? It was much worse than death — loving, 
living and lasting. The world was beautiful to her, 
yet she hated it; life was feverish, yet she clung to 
it; death was rest, yet she feared it. If she had 
dared, she would have taken her life. She was a 
Catholic, and wished to go to Heaven, if she con- 
fessed all her sins. She well knew if she committed 
suicide she could not receive the last sacrament of 
extreme unction, or make the act of contrition, and 
this is what kept her from doing away with herself. 

Titus had long since arrived at Melbourne, Aus- 
tralia, and was living upon what little money he had 
brought with him. He would not wTite home for 
money or tell his father or mother where he was. He 
had changed his name to Henry Hamilton, instead 
of Titus V. Hanlon. His mother had advertised and 
solicited his whereabouts for many months without 
avail. She loved her only boy, and he loved her, but 
he was determined to never return or let his parents 
know of him again. It was not long until his mother 
went into a decline and died. This was too much 
for the father to bear, so shortly after, he succumbed 



40 THE ADOPTION 

to pneumonia and died. Titus saw by the London 
News that both of his parents were dead. Troubles 
never come singly. Mr. Hanlon had financial re- 
verses, and had lost all he had, there being enough 
left to bury him, and that was all. Titus knew this 
from the London papers, so he made no attempt to 
claim the patrimony of his parents, for he knew there 
was little, if anything, left. This so disheartened the 
boy that he commenced to increase the dose of mor- 
phine each evening. This would render him uncon- 
scious of his troubles to a greater or less extent. He 
would not write to Mabel, as much as he loved her, 
and as much as he cared to know of the birth of the 
child. He had lost all his manly courage and was 
on his way down to destruction, although there was 
one hope in Titus' case, and that w^as, he did not 
drink strong drink, nor was he licentious. Tobacco 
and morphine were his only vices. He roomed in a 
small bungalow on the coast, where the view of the 
sea would sometimes hold his pensive thoughts for 
hours at a time. Here he would often sit while the 
sun was dipping its crest into the western sea and 
threw its refracted sheen across the waters, as if to 
lighten his soul. 

Titus would write poems and think about what he 
had left behind in England. His poems were full 
of pathos, his topic, love. If Titus could have known 



THE ADOPTION 41 

the child was a male and had been christened for him, 
and that he favored his father so much in looks, 
would he not have made haste and at once returned 
to England? 

Both Titus and Mabel were miserable at this time. 
What solace could they have found in each other, 
if they had been together with their child! But, no, 
God has his ways. He had impregnated his mind 
with the idea that he must remain away, though it 
was crushing his heart to do it. 

If all earth's gold were tendered me, 

And I could choose, I'd tell 
Take all the pelf, but give to me, 
My love, my life, Mabel. 
Love is a social heaven. It prevails in Omnipotence. Its 
great Arcanum can be entered at will. The Jew, the Gen- 
tile, the peer or peasant are aHke shaded by its canopy. It 
softens the criminal's heart. It mitigates sorrow, it causes 
the parent to propagate posterity. It opens the soul to eternal 
bliss. It canonizes the saint. It cleanses the sullied. It 
brought our Savior to redeem our souls with love and give 
us life everlasting. 

Mabel had, by this time, resumed her former habits 
of living. Her aunt dressed her well, and she would 
occasionally ride out into the park and often into the 
country over the same roads that she and Titus 
Hanlon had so often and so many times driven over. 
She had now taken up music with all the assiduity at 
her command. She was fond of music, and had 



42 THE ADOPTION 

acquired great proficiency playing the piano. She 
now displayed a great amount of skill. She seemed 
to care but little for novels, except historical novels. 
She would often take her pad and pencil and go out 
upon the Downs and sit and compose, on the spot 
where she first met Titus. She always seemed to 
have a peculiar fondness for this spot. It would in- 
spire her to write. The environment would bring 
back memories of past reminiscences, and she would 
find solace in meditating by the hour at this place. 

Mabel was not looking for, nor did she even think 
of ever meeting another man that would take the 
place of Titus, but it is the unexpected that always 
happens. It was at the same spot, one Sunday after- 
noon, while sitting on the same stone, a gentleman's 
hat was blown from his head and down a slight de- 
clivity to this rock w^here she was sitting. As the 
old saying goes, "It's an ill wind that blows nobody 
good." Mabel stooped and picked up the hat and 
volunteered to present it to its owner, who by that 
time was near her to receive it and offer her his 
thanks for her trouble. After he had thanked her, 
he said he had noticed her sitting there many times 
before, and had often wondered what she could be 
thinking of so devotedly, alone, by herself. 

"You always looked so lonely, yet beautiful, as you 
sat thinking as though you were unconscious of every- 



THE ADOPTION 43 

thing about you. I have often wanted to speak to 
you, but had not the courage to approach you so 
abruptly. I have thought I would sometime, lay all 
conventionality aside and introduce myself in my own 
informal way, but Providence has aided me by blow- 
ing my hat down to you. Allow me to give you my 
card. I am a resident of Bristol. I was born and 
raised here. I am now living with my father and 
mother on Queen Street. My vocation in life is 
medicine, a physician by profession, in other words." 

The name on the card was "William Knox." 
After Mabel had read the card, she placed it in the 
tablet she had in her hand, and answered him by 
saying that his acquaintance was very acceptable. 
They spent the remainder of the day conversing. 
When they parted he made an appointment for the 
next afternoon that he would call and take her 
driving. 

Doctor Knox was a man about five feet nine inches 
in height, rather portly, with an air of aggressiveness. 
He had light blue eyes and light hair, smooth face, 
and a very heavy baritone voice. He was quite 
loquacious which at times was tiresome, yet he was 
a good man. He was exempt from all bad habits. 
He had acquired a large practice in Bristol, for the 
short time he had been practicing, and had done it 
chiefly on his merit as a surgeon. He had no other 



44 THE ADOPTION 

aid like many young physicians have. Some have 
prepossessing personaHties, or have inherited wealth, 
or their parents have some patronymic connection 
v^ith the more noble blood, but Dr. Knox had some- 
thing of more intrinsic value to him and to the world 
as well, and that was his surgical skill. 

The next day they drove to the country, and from 
that on several times each week he would call and 
take Mabel out driving. 

Mabel thought it was best not to keep any secrets 
from her aunt this time, so she told her that she 
was keeping company with a Dr. Knox. Her aunt 
was very much pleased at this, as she well knew 
Mabel was lonely, and was at an age now where she 
should go with some good man with the intention 
of matrimony. 

Mabel did not think she would ever care for Dr. 
Knox at first, but after she had gone with him some 
time, and she could see so many good traits of char- 
acter, she learned to love him (if there is such a 
thing as learning to love). Mabel, as I have said, 
admired his good principles and qualities, but could 
never love him, as she had and did still love Titus 
Hanlon. She well knew she would be compelled to 
marry sooner or later, as her aunt was getting ad- 
vanced in years, and would not be long until she 
would be all alone in the world, for she, by this time. 



THE ADOPTION 45 

felt she would never see again the man of all men 
to her, and who had so ruthlessly left her. 

After several months of courtship with Dr. Knox, 
they were betrothed and married. After the consum- 
mation of the marriage, which was held in the Church 
of England, they fitted up a pleasant little home on 
St. Jacob's Wells Road, Bristol, where the Doctor 
was engaged in the practice of medicine. 

Dr. Knox was a Protestant and Mabel a Catholic. 
This was the cause of a great amount of controversy 
at one time, but the Doctor would not join the Cath- 
olic Church, nor would he be married by a Catholic 
priest. Mabel would not join the Church of England, 
so they finally compromised by leaving the question 
of Christian orthodoxy out of the marriage. 

After one year of apparently married bliss had 
passed, the Doctor was prevailed upon by some one 
of his friends to go to Australia and build up a 
practice there, as there was a much better field there 
for a good surgeon than in Bristol or, in fact, Eng- 
land. After considering this proposition for a while, 
and after obtaining Mabel's consent to go, they packed 
up bag and baggage and bade farewell to their friends 
and relations and sailed for Melbourne, Australia. 
Mabel's aunt had died, but a few months before this, 
and Mabel did not have to go through the sorrowful 
act of bidding her goodbye. But she went and 



46 THE ADOPTION 

strewed some wild violets that she had plucked from 
the Downs on her grave. As she moistened them 
with a tear, she bade what remained mortal of her 
aunt a last farewell. After a pleasant voyage of 
many days, they arrived in Melbourne. Mabel did 
not like the country at first, and was homesick, but 
after a while she became reconciled to being out of 
England, and became more favorably impressed. 
They bought a very beautiful old home in the resi- 
dential part of the city, and furnished it very cosily. 
The house was very commodious. The ceilings were 
high and frescoed. The front yard took up several 
acres of land. It presented a very stately appear- 
ance, and Mabel was pleased with the purchase of 
this particular home, as she thought it was so much 
like the house that used to shelter the one that was 
still more dear to her than any one in the world, 
except her dear child. 

Six years had passed. They had lived at this beau- 
tiful old home in perfect harmony. The Doctor had 
acquired a very large practice. They had also min- 
gled in society with the highest circles of Melbourne. 
But they had not been blessed with a single child. 
Mabel would like now to have her child with her, 
but this she thought was impossible, as she did not 
know where her child was, nor could she have him 
if she did know, for she had never told the Doctor 



THE ADOPTION 47 

she had one, or ever told him of that part of her 
past life. She knew if she did, he would never have 
married her, as the Doctor was very strict as to the 
virtue of a woman. So Mabel gave up the idea of 
ever trying to obtain her own dear Titus Hanlon, Jr. 

After consulting with each other for a few weeks, 
they decided to advertise for a male child between the 
ages of six and ten years. They placed an advertise- 
ment in the Australian papers, as well as the London 
papers. They seemed to prefer a boy from England, 
one who was born in their native land. A few weeks 
went by, and they received many letters, but the 
descriptions of the ones sent did not suit Mabel. She 
had formed in her mind what she wanted in the 
physical make-up of a boy. It was not long until 
they received a letter from England offering a boy 
of seven years old that seemed to be just what they 
both wanted. The letter was written in a Dutch 
broken English. Arrangements were at once made, 
and the child was sent forthwith in company with a 
gentleman by the name of Wykliff, who was on his 
way back to Australia. 

Mr. Van Rensler had lost his wife, and he had 
sold the little farm, and as much as he loved the 
child, he saw that he must let him go, as his health 
was now on the decline since his wife's death, and 
he felt he was not long for this life, and wanted the 



48 THE ADOPTION 

child to have a good home before he passed away. 

At last the ship arrived bearing the boy. He little 
knew that he was going to his own mother's arms, 
and that she would soon kiss his cheeks. Nor did 
Mabel in the least expect to see her own child. She 
and her husband were at the wharf to meet him. As 
soon as Mabel glanced at his face, after Mr. Wykliff 
presented the little follow, she grew pale for a mo- 
ment, she was so happy. A feeling came over her 
that she could not understand; there was something 
in his dear sweet countenance that appealed to her 
at once, not in the least thinking it was her own dear 
Titus Vespatius Hanlon. But she at once leaned 
over and placed her arms about his little body and 
pressed her lips to his, kissing him fervently. 

"Now, you are our own dear child. You are go- 
ing with us to your new home, and you will have 
lots of good things to eat, and lots of playthings, and 
I am always to be your mamma, and here is your 
papa," as the Doctor kissed him and picked him up 
and placed him into a cab that took him to the home 
that would be a home of many revelations in time to 
come. A short time after this the little fellow was 
adopted. He was going by the name of Roy Van 
Rensler. 

It was not so very long— only seven years — since 
this very paradoxical mother had him christened Titus 



THE ADOPTION 49 

Vespatius Hanlon. After the Van Renslers took him 
to raise, they never knew his right name. It was 
never given them, although they might have known 
if they had looked at the scapular carefully, for upon 
this was printed in indelible ink his full name. And 
now his name was to be changed the third time in 
his short life. This time it became Roy Knox. 

Mabel was happier now than she had been since 
Titus Hanlon left her nearly seven years ago. She 
seemed to have some hidden satisfaction. She did 
not realize, or know this was her own son, but Mabel 
always had more or less psychic power. The psychic 
or occult phenomena as far as the mental phase of 
it was concerned, would at times strangely manifest 
itself, but was always impromptu. She never asked 
for any manifestations or tests. Mabel would often 
get mental telepathic communications from her 
friends. Her impressions were very good — so much 
so she would always go by her first impression, and 
would invariably be right. 

This is why Mabel took to this apparently strange 
boy, because it was her own flesh and blood, yet her 
mortal senses did not know. But the human ego 
from his little personality inspired her to a spiritual 
satisfaction, which made her happy, and as long as 
she was contented or happy, why want anything else? 
For, as Robert Ingersoll said, "Happiness is the only 



50 THE ADOPTION 

good, Reason the only torch, Humanity the only re- 
ligion. Justice the only worshipper, and Love the 
only priest." 

Titus Hanlon, Sr., was living in Melbourne on the 
North side of the city. He had become so poor, and 
his health was becoming so impaired, that he was 
not the same Titus Hanlon he was at one time. He 
had changed so that Mabel would never know him 
unless he should tell her his right name; then she 
would at once recognize his features. But by passing 
under another name, it would not be difficult for him 
to deceive her. But Mabel would be recognized at 
once by anyone who had ever known her. She still 
retained her beauty, and vivacity and fastidious way 
of dressing. She always dressed plain, but ver}^ neat. 
Her neck was beautiful, but she had not the egotism 
to wear her dress low. Mabel was very sensible in 
all her ways of living. 

Titus was now living incognito. He was going 
by the name of Henry Hamilton, instead of Titus V. 
Hanlon. He had been working the past two years 
as a butler for a wealthy family in Melbourne. He 
had got down to this in the past seven years. He 
saw to the buying of all the provisions and would 
oversee the culinary department. He was compelled 
to do this for a livelihood. 

Titus was well educated, and was capable of doing 



THE ADOPTION 51 

things where he would be honored more than as a 
butler. But he was a creature of circumstances, and 
the morphine seemed to disqualify him for nearly 
everything. Nor could he make any application of 
what he did know. He had no business diplomacy 
or executive ability, which is characteristic of one 
who is addicted to the morphine habit. It renders 
its users careless and untruthful. There are many 
that morphine has a very unpleasant effect upon, and 
these people are, as a rule, sanguine or lymphatic 
and sometimes of a bilious temperament. But the 
nervous temperament is the one so susceptible to the 
narcotic, as Titus was. 

There are no poetic lines, De Quincy's prose, nor 
virtuoso on key or string, that can explain this ideal, 
seraphic feeling of mental and physical relief. There 
is nothing to compare it with. On the other hand, 
when the system has gone twenty- four hours with- 
out the drug, when a nervous temperament has been 
accustomed to its use for some years, he feels as 
though Beelzebub himself was tearing his abdominal 
viscera from him, or Apollo crushing him, or he is 
passing through Dante's Inferno. He is as Daniel 
was when he was in the lion's den, but the lions can 
tear with their talons and gnaw with their incisors. 
This is just a part of the suffering one has to bear 
while craving for the god of sleep Morpheus, or 



52 THE ADOPTION 

morphine. Titus had been all through this. He had 
witnessed every phase of life and every sensual 
pleasure. He was now blase, and now he was apa- 
thetic and indifferent to everything on earth. 

We should never criticize anyone, no matter what 
their condition of life may be, for we may have been 
the same if we had been surrounded by the same 
circumstances. The omniscient power above places 
us or makes us as we are for some good. As Shakes- 
peare says, 

Songs in brooks, 

Sermons in stones, 

And good in everything. 

We should take this existence philosophically; 
there is no one here, no matter how or what he may 
be, but who has his part to play in life's drama, as 
well as the higher and more noble. 

One Saturday afternoon in August, Titus was down 
in the metropolitan part of Melbourne, in one of the 
large grocery stores there. He was purchasing gro- 
ceries for the household where he was employed. 
As he was leaving the store to return home, he no- 
ticed a lady alight from a carriage and walk briskly 
into the store to purchase some articles. As soon 
as he saw this lady, he became deathly pale, and a 
cold perspiration came over him. He recognized her 
as being some one very close and dear to him, but 



THE ADOPTION 53 

at first did not place her as Mabel. But having re- 
gained possession of himself, he stepped into the store 
again and surveyed her from head to foot while she 
was engaged in purchasing groceries. It was but 
a moment until he recognized her as his Mabel of 
years ago. But what could she be doing there, and 
the carriage — the private carriage with footman and 
driver? She must be married and settled down here 
in Melbourne to live. All this came to him at once. 
To satisfy himself on this point, he at once walked 
out of the store and hurried down the street a short 
distance, where he saw a young lad about thirteen 
years old. He at once approached him and said, 

"Here, my boy, is a shilling. Go to the footman 
on the seat of the carriage yonder and ask him whose 
it is. Ask him the name and remember it, and come 
back and tell me.'* 

This the boy willingly did, after which he returned 
and told Titus it belonged to Doctor William Knox. 
Titus was not quite satisfied. He went back to the 
grocery store and asked one of the clerks he knew 
very well, if he would loan him his bicycle for a 
while. The clerk answering him in the affirmative, 
Titus took the bicycle, and when the carriage started 
away, followed on behind to learn what its destina- 
tion was, and where this lady, whom he had loved 
so long, was living. He followed until they drove 



54 THE ADOPTION 

into the driveway of the old Fox home that he him- 
self had admired so many times in passing, for it 
reminded him of his home of youthful days at Clif- 
ton, England. He could see on the front gate the 
sign "Dr. W. Knox, Physician and Surgeon." This 
at once convinced him that what the boy had told 
him was true. At this, he returned with the bicycle 
and went on his way to his duties. When he returned 
to his room he sat for an hour thinking. The past 
three hours' revelations had caused Titus more happi- 
ness than he had since he left England seven years 
ago. It at once began to work upon him and inspire 
him to do better and reduce the morphine and try 
to appear more polished, as he once did, for he was 
bound to come in contact with her in some way. 

Although he well knew he would not divulge his 
name, he decided to devise some plan by which he 
might converse with her if but for five minutes. 
Each evening after six o'clock dinner, he would walk 
up and down in front of the Knox home. Often 
Mabel would be out in front sitting, sometimes with 
the child and the Doctor, and sometimes alone. 

One Sunday afternoon, as Titus was passing the 
house slowly, Mabel was out at the front fence look- 
ing up and down the street, inadvertently. She had 
picked a few roses in the yard, and was holding them 
in her left hand, as though she did not know they 



THE ADOPTION 55 

were there. As Titus passed, she glanced at him 
with her beautiful eyes, and he at her. He came very 
near speaking to her. She looked at him more 
closely than she usually looked at a pedestrian, be- 
cause something about his eyes impressed her, but 
she didn't know it was Titus. But now Titus was 
very sure it was Mabel. From this time on he was 
contriving how he might have a few moments' talk 
with her, and what he could do without divulging 
his right name. One evening while trying to think 
of some way to meet her within the next month, he 
was glancing over the Melbourne paper, and saw in 
the advertisements that a Doctor William Knox was 
in need of a butler, and saying to apply at the home, 
466 Victoria Avenue. 

That was on Friday evening. Early Saturday 
morning Titus went direct to the home of Doctor 
Knox and applied for the position. Mrs. Knox was 
out. It was just as well, however, as she never had 
anything to do with the hiring of servants. Mabel 
was having a dress made, and was having it fitted 
that morning. Titus was ushered into the office of 
Doctor Knox. He at once introduced himself as 
Henry Hamilton, formerly of Edinburg, Scotland. 
He did not want to tell him he was from Clifton. 

Titus fell into conversation with Dr. Knox at once, 
and he asked him how long he had been in Mel- 



56 THE ADOPTION 

bourne, and what part of England he came from. As 
soon as he said Bristol, he knew at once of the Knox 
family, and that this one, William Knox, was study- 
ing medicine at the time he was, except at a different 
school. The Doctor took to Titus at once, or rather 
to Henry Hamilton, and hired him as their butler 
and told him he could begin the following Monday. 
Titus shook his hand and bidding him good-day, 
passed out of the house into the front yard. As he 
went through the yard he saw a little boy playing 
there with a four-wheeled cart, loading and unloading 
it with sand. As Titus approached the little fellow, 
he was astonished, and stopped and spoke to him. 

"Who are you, little boy; do you belong here?" 

*T do; I live here with papa and mamma.** 

"What is your name?" asked Titus. 

"My name is Roy Knox." 

"How old are you?" he asked. 

"I am seven years old," replied the boy. 

He had just recollected that Mabel must have a 
child somewhere in the world, unless it had died 
since, that was very dear to him. This was the first 
time that this had occurred to him. His mind was 
so taken up with the idea of meeting Mabel, he had 
not once thought of the fact that the child was the 
cause of their separation seven years back. But on 
seeing this little fellow, it all came back to him. He 



THE ADOPTION 57 

at once expelled the idea from his mind that it could 
be his child. That could not be possible, because 
Mabel would have had to give up the child to shield 
her reputation. Although he felt an attachment for 
the child, as its features reminded him of someone 
he could not place, or his face presented an appear- 
ance that he liked so much to look upon. He gave 
the little fellow sixpence and passed on his way home 
satisfied that he had accomplished a great deal on 
this day. 

When Monday morning arrived, Titus packed his 
things and was met by a carriage of the Doctor's 
and brought to his new master and mistress. He at 
once entered upon his duties, being very careful at 
first to pay but little attention to Mabel. He strove 
to please them all; he exercised every effort to do 
his best, not only as a butler, but as a man and a 
gentleman. He exemplified so much of a spirit of 
culture and refinement, that they would often ask him 
why he was a butler, if he was not out of his sphere, 
being so well informed, to follow the vocation that 
he now followed. Titus would always give some eva- 
sive answer. They all became very fond of him. He 
spent many hours of the day with the little boy that 
was his own, but was not aware of it. 

Titus was not looked upon, for long, as a butler 
in the family of Dr. Knox, but almost as one of the 



58 THE ADOPTION 

family. He was using a great amount of strategy 
and diplomacy, so that Mabel did not learn his real 
identity. Yet she would sit sometimes at the table 
and eye him as a chance would present itself. She 
could see something either extraordinary in his make- 
up, as well as something she partly recognized, and 
also something she could almost love, not the least 
expecting it to be Titus. She often wondered where 
Titus was, and if he w^as still living. Titus could 
easily see that he was making an impression on 
Mabel, but he would not reveal his identity to her, 
although it was all he could do to refrain from seiz- 
ing her when she passed near him, and pressing her 
to his bosom and telling her all. But something told 
him to wait and let matters develop. 

As time went on, Mabel became more and more 
attached to the new butler, but she was very careful 
that it should not attract the attention of the Doctor. 
She did not do it to be untrue to her husband; this 
never entered her mind, but there was a power that 
science has yet to explain. There was that everlast- 
ing affinity that was bound to predominate. 

Often, when the Doctor was away, they would sit 
and converse with each other by the hour. Titus 
would repeat poems that he used to quote to her, and 
speak of little things that would startle her. She 



THE ADOPTION 59 

would often say, "I wish I could explain to you why 
you at times startle me." 

He well knew why it was, but to draw her out, he 
would ask her to tell him, which she finally did. 

"You are the only man I ever met that reminds 
me of the one and only one I ever loved or ever 
will love. Poor boy, he was a creature of circum- 
stances. He was addicted to the use of morphine, 
and it eventually caused our separation, yet it was 
his own fault. I loved him for all that, and love 
him still." 

While she was making this narration and dwelling 
on her affection for her Titus, she at one time loved 
and still loved tears came to the eyes of Titus who 
was not the butler. He was nearly overcome with 
grief as she finished talking. She looked up at him 
and noticed that he had been crying. She at once 
asked him why it affected him in this manner, and 
he answered by saying that he could sympathize with 
her, as he was situated likewise — that he loved a 
woman that was the wife of another, and that she 
loved him as well, but circumstances kept him from 
letting her know of his whereabouts. 

After they had talked to each other as long as they 
dared, for fear the Doctor would come home, they 
moment. He pressed her to his heart and kissed her 
parted. He could not help but embrace her at this 



6o THE ADOPTION 

lovingly. She did not remonstrate or offer any ob- 
jection, for she felt that he came so near being Titus, 
that if he was dead, he was, as Pythagoras had 
said was possible, reincarnated in this man, Henry 
Hamilton. 

How happy Titus was this night while he was 
sitting in his room up-stairs, knowing that his love 
was below in the same house, and still loved her 
Titus, though he left her so abruptly when she was 
in trouble. They could hardly wait for the time 
that they could be together. Mabel was too good 
a woman to even think of any wrong — this did not 
enter their minds, though she became so infatuated 
with the butler and so cold to her husband, that he 
could see there was something wrong. He kept this 
to himself, as he thought it was best not to say 
anything at this time. 

One afternoon while they were together, Titus, 
having made up his mind to find out what had be- 
come of her child that he knew she must have had, 
questioned her and asked her to tell him more about 
her love affair with the man that he reminded her 
of. She told him how she had met a certain Titus 
Hanlon on the Downs at Clifton, England, and that 
he held her captive one night in his father's house, 
and that he had drugged her, and had, what he 
would call, ruined her, and that she forgave him 



THE ADOPTION 6i 

because she loved him so well, and that he was un- 
der the influence of morphine at the time, and did 
not realize what he was doing. She told him that 
she was compelled to go to a maternity home later, 
and gave birth to a boy, and had him christened 
Titus Vespatius Hanlon, as his father wished her to 
do. She described him at length as he was at that 
time. She also told how she was compelled to give 
the child away to a Dutch family, she imagined by 
the name, as she was later told by one of the at- 
tendants at the maternity home in London that the 
family was Holland Dutch, but lived in England. 
She also told Titus of the scapular that was given 
him with the name Titus Vespatius Hanlon, Jr., 
printed on it with indelible ink. 

Titus listened intently to all this and was deter- 
mined to find out all he could in order that he might 
later locate his boy. As weeks went by, a small ex- 
press package was left there one day by the express- 
man. The Doctor was out, and Mabel opened the 
package. Much to her surprise, it contained the 
scapular that was given the child, and the little shoe 
that was the mate to the one she removed from the 
foot of her boy the day of the sad parting so long 
ago. She at once got the other shoe, which she had 
all of her married life kept away from her husband, 
and compared the two and found them to be exact 



62 THE ADOPTION 

mates. As she went to get the shoe, Titus observed 
the name Titus Vespatius Hanlon, Jr., on the scapu- 
lar, and when she returned they both looked at it to- 
gether. Titus, as well as Mabel, was well pleased 
at this, for they were sure now that there was a 
chance to locate the child. Yet Mabel was not aware 
of the fact that the man at her side was anxious to 
locate the boy, nor did she in the least suspect him 
as being the father. 

In the evening mail came a letter from Van Rens- 
ler, of Manchester, England, explaining that this 
scapular belonged to the boy that they had adopted, 
and he had placed it into a bureau drawer and had 
forgotten that it was in existence until he came across 
it by accident not long since. He went on to explain 
that the name of this scapular's owner was written on 
it in indelible ink, and that he had taken the child 
from a certain maternity home in London on a cer- 
tain day of the year, and that the mother's name was 
Mabel Crawford, of Clifton, England. 

This explained all to her complete satisfaction. As 
soon as she read this letter, she went directly to the 
adopted boy, that was only partly adopted now. She 
clasped him in her arms and shed tears of joy over 
him. She was now the happiest woman in all the 
world, to think that her long and many prayers were 
answered at last, that God had sent her what she 



THE ADOPTION 63 

loved the most, with the exception of Titus, of any- 
thing in all the world. 

This night was a wakeful night for Mabel; she 
lay with her little loved one in her arms, watching 
over him, and waiting until the next day, that she 
might tell the glad tidings to Henry, the butler, or 
her unknown lover Titus. 

At the very first opportunity they were together 
the next day, Mabel read the letter to Titus, or the 
butler. He could hardly suppress his feeling of joy, 
but he knew he must wait. Mabel was convinced 
beyond the faintest doubt now, that she had her own 
child in her arms. 

After Titus, or the butler, had heard the contents 
of the letter from Mr. Van Rensler, the good old 
German who had had the little boy baby for about 
five years, he broke down and wept, first placing his 
arms about Mabel's neck. Mabel wondered at this 
demonstration of his; she could not understand why 
he should be so overcome with emotion on reading 
the letter. She asked Titus why he felt as he did, 
and he replied by saying he was so sympathetic, that 
he could never control his feelings when anything 
as touching as this came up, especially when it was 
so near. 

*'To see how you are the star in the whole drama, 
and I caring for you as a friend, as I do. I say 



64 THE ADOPTION 

'friend,' Mabel, as I have no right at present to say- 
other than that, for you are a married woman, and 
not only that, you have a man in the world some- 
where that you dearly love, so that gives me little 
encouragement." 

"But, Oh, Henry," as she called him, not knowing 
he was her Titus, "now that I have my child I have 
prayed for, I am sure God wall answer my prayers 
further. If he does not, I will always remember 
you as my nearest and dearest friend. You well 
know that I am too honorable to leave my husband, 
for you know he loves me very dearly and has always 
been so kind and good to me, and I will always be 
true to him. There is but one thing that could cause 
me to leave William, and that is, if Titus should 
happen to come into my life again. I could not part 
from him if I should ever meet him again, especially 
now that I have his child. Oh, how I wish he could 
look at his boy! Can you imagine how happy he 
would be to know that his last wish w^as fulfilled. 
He wished and hoped the babe would be a male, and 
that I should have him christened after his father, to 
make the name patronymic, thus Titus Vespatius 
Hanlon. I have done as he wished me to do. I 
have been true to Titus. I married for a livelihood, 
that I might have a home. I could not love any man 
but Titus. I could only admire, or honor, or respect. 



THE ADOPTION 65 

My love was all showered on one in my early days, 
and this one was Titus." 

Titus, or the butler, took in every word of this, 
and afterwards he considered minutely how true, how 
loyal Mabel was to him at heart, and how brutal he 
was to leave her seven years ago as he did. How 
he did want to tell her all — that he was the lover she 
was so fond of, but he could not at this time face 
her. He thought if she knew he was the real Titus 
Hanlon, her lover of seven years back — he still lacked 
courage on account of his habit. 

Mabel was now day by day showing more affection 
for the butler. She could not refrain from meeting 
him now, even when the Doctor was on the premises. 

On one occasion the Doctor saw the butler draw 
her up to him, and kiss her lovingly; this was on 
Sunday afternoon just before Mabel was to take an 
afternoon ride with the Doctor. The Doctor had 
become suspicious before this, but had remained 
quiet. Mabel, on this Sunday afternoon, excused 
herself in the hall before taking the carriage, and 
walked back ostensibly to get her gloves that she said 
she had left laying on the dining-room table, or in 
the kitchen. As she went back to get the gloves that 
she pretended to get, the Doctor tiptoed to the end 
of the hall and looked through the crack of the door, 
and the spectacle of affection that met his eye caused 



66 THE ADOPTION 

him to nearly faint. He did not suspect his wife of 
having gone so far as this. However, he regained 
control of himself by sheer will power, and hurriedly 
went to the carriage so she would not suspect him 
of thus detecting her in her parting kiss with the 
butler. 

Doctor Knox, several times before this, had seen 
things he did not like, and was sure there was more 
to the bottom of this, if it was sounded. Mabel 
carried a picture that Titus, the butler, had given to 
her since he had been there in the employ of the 
Doctor. This picture was a very good likeness of 
Titus as he now looked. She carried this in her 
bosom with the scapular that she had received of late 
with her little boy's name written on it, wound 
around the picture and wrapped in tissue paper. 

On the coming Friday evening, they were to have 
about thirty guests at their home to supper, and to 
have a dance after supper. They had made great 
preparations for the few hours of felicity and feast- 
ing. It was during that evening's festivities and 
dancing that Dr. Knox became so overcome by what 
he had witnessed with his own eyes, and what a 
friend of his had told him he had witnessed. After 
the party had dispersed, and they had all gone to 
their several rooms, the Doctor and Mabel went to 
their room. As soon as they entered the room, Mabel 



THE ADOPTION 67 

made preparations to retire, but the Doctor spoke up 
at once, and said, "Do not retire now, Mabel. I 
have just Ht a cigar, and when I am through with 
it, we will both retire at once." ''Very well," was 
the reply. The Doctor was so full of both anger 
and sorrow he could hardly keep quiet for a moment. 
Mabel unfastened her neck attire, and at the same 
time crossed the room to a bureau on the opposite 
side, as she had done many evenings before without 
detection. As she crossed, she reached into her 
bosom and withdrew the picture and the scapular and 
laid them in the drawer. The Doctor closely scruti- 
nized all of her movements now, as he did not trust 
her any longer. He could see by the reflection of 
the mirror that she had tried to secrete something 
beneath some of her lace gowns in the drawer. As 
soon as she had done this, she returned and sat be- 
side him. At this, he took her hand and looked into 
her eyes and smiled and laughed in a supercilious 
manner. 

"Mabel, Mabel, woman, woman, how meek and 
submissive, yet cunning." 

This made a flush come to Mabel's cheek, but she 
tried to act as nonchalant as possible. 

"Mabel, why do you walk to the bureau each and 
every evening and place some article of value, of 
great value, there. To you it must be of great value, 



68 THE ADOPTION 

for you leave your diamonds and pearls on the center 
table, and whatever it may be, you are very careful 
to put it away securely." 

''Doctor, how mean you are tonight," sne said as 
she came close to him and tried to regain his con- 
fidence by false caresses. At this he smiled and said, 

*T guess you love another, Mabel. I am incredu- 
lous about your caring for me any more. I will hope 
to see you manifest yourself differently, if I am con- 
vinced otherwise." 

At this he rose and walked to the bureau arid 
opened the drawer. At once Mabel resented this and 
became indignant. 

"Why, Doctor Knox, what has come over you all 
at once; you have never acted this way before." 

At the same time the Doctor was removing from 
the drawer piece after piece of wearing apparel, 
laughing and holding Mabel at the same time so she 
could not interfere with his operations. 

''Why, Doctor, don't go further. I do not want 
you or any gentlemen to look at my clothes. The 
package you speak of contains something ecclesiastic- 
ally sacred to me," said Mabel. "Oh," replied the 
Doctor, "it does. Well, I will have to see, maybe 
it will be sacred to me as well." At this he found 
the little package and raised it far above his head. 



THE ADOPTION 69 

laughing at the same time, and Mabel, reaching for 
it and appealing to him to give it to her. 

"Please, please, give it to me, and I will show yoti 
some other time. I am tired tonight, and want to 
rest" 

At this he ran back of the table, dodging her, and 
commenced to unwind the string that held the tissue 
paper about it. 

"Why do you try to tantalize me in this way? 
What real pleasure does it give you," she asked. 

"Not that I love Caesar less, but that I love Rome 
more. There's tears for his love, joy for his fortune, 
honor for his valor, and death for his ambition," he 
replied. 

He gave this quotation from Shakespeare's drama 
in a dramatic tone and gesture. By this time he had 
the package open, apparently examining its contents. 
He first looked at the scapular, wondering what it was, 
and mumbling beneath his breath in a satirical way, 
"What is this?" As he unwound the scapular, not 
being a Catholic, he could not imagine what it could 
be. "It must be a small porous plaster or fly blister, 
fastened to a string. Hello, hello, look at the por- 
trait. Ah, isn't he fine looking. Yes, and our butler, 
at that. Oh, you have your fellow in the house, and 
still you want his photo on your body by day and 
secured by night." 



70 THE ADOPTION 

At this he glanced at the scapular and read the 
name that was printed in indelible ink thereon, Titus 
Vespatius Hanlon." 

"There must be some connection between this, 
whatever it is, and the picture. What is this, Mabel," 
he asked as he lifted it up to her. 

"It is a scapular," she replied. "What is a scap- 
ular?" he asked. "A scapula to physicians is the 
shoulder blade bone. "Why, a scapular is something 
connected with our church," said Mabel. "You would 
not know if I would tell you, she answered in a faint 
tone, thoroughly scared, for she knew the worst was 
yet to come. 

"Mabel, you are full of deception and fraud. What 
in God's name have you that picture for ? What right 
have you to carry another man's photo about with 
you? Answer me this, answer me," he cried in loud, 
dramatic tones, while walking back and forth across 
the bed-room. 

"William Knox, do not ask me to explain tonight. 
Go to bed, and tomorrow I will answer all." 

"Go to bed, go to bed, with my heart! Mabel, 
what do you think I am made of? I shall never see 
myself in bed again until this is explained, and ex- 
plained thoroughly, to my satisfaction. So, Mabel, 
I am waiting, proceed." 



THE ADOPTION 71 

At this Mabel hung her head and did not utter 
a word. 

"Speak, explain this to me at once, I demand it," 
said the doctor. 

Mabel made no reply. The Doctor rose to his feet. 

"Tell me what this all means, or I will kill you 
here on the spot." She rose, with eyes that snapped 
and set her jaws. 

"Kill me, then, you coward, kill me. That you 
can do, for you are strong, but you cannot scare me. 
I will not tell you now, until I am ready," she said. 

"Oh, my God, my God, my life is ruined, my life 
is ruined," wailed the Doctor. 

"This seemed to touch a sympathetic cord in Mabel, 
and she went to him and embraced him and said, "No, 
dear, you are not ruined. I am here still, I love you 
as much as ever, and can explain. Give me time 
and I will explain." 

He at first tried to push her away, but she clung 
to him and kept on appealing to him until he threw 
his arms about her and kissed her and held her with 
her head on his shoulder for three or four minutes. 
The Doctor thought a great deal of Mabel, and her 
renewed affections for a moment took possession of 
him. But as she was still laying her head upon his 
shoulder, the thought came to him of her kissing the 
butler a few days before in the kitchen. He was 



y^ THE ADOPTION 

sure in his mind that she had been untrue to him. 
As he thought of this, his anger arose anew and he 
pressed her away and said, "Mabel, you have been 
untrue to me. I have noticed things that were very 
indiscreet of you going on for months here under 
my very eyes." 

"You imagine this, WilHam," she ejaculated. 

"I imagine nothing. I go by facts, not fancies." 

"You are jealous, Doctor," said she. 

"I am not jealous, I am disappointed in you, and 
have been much so since the day I saw you kiss the 
butler goodbye the afternoon you went to ride with 
me, and made the excuse to go to the kitchen to get 
your gloves, and you had your gloves in your coat 
pocket all the time, and simply went back to kiss 
the butler." 

Mabel turned pale at this, and now made up her 
mind that he was aware of much more than she had 
ever surmised he knew. At this she burst out with 
an indignant air, and said, 

"Well, what if I did kiss him? If you could un- 
derstand and knew all, you would not censure me, 
perhaps, as you do." 

"Understood — what is there to understand," he 
replied. 

"There is lots to understand that neither you nor 



THE ADOPTION 73 

anyone else but myself can understand or realize." 
said she. 

"I can only understand that you have taken my 
name and have desecrated it. I thought when I mar- 
ried you you would be at least virtuous/' 

"What do you mean," she abruptly broke in with 
loud tones — "What do you mean now? You must 
explain yourself, or you shall never sully our married 
existence. I hate you. I care nothing for you; you 
may leave me if you wish. If you knew all, you 
would not say those hard things to me." 

"I say only the truth," he said. 

"You speak falsely, and to speak as you do will 
not mitigate your sorrow or mine in the least. I 
hate you; you may leave me, and I never will live 
with you more, since you have so maliciously insulted 
me; it is ridiculous and puerile," answered Mabel. 

"I will leave this very day. I will take Roy, and 
you may go with your butler," he said. 

"You will not take Roy ; he is my child, not yours." 

"How you talk ! Did I not adopt him ; has not the 
law of man given him to me?" asked Dr. Knox. 

"Yes, but there is a higher law than that of man 
that gave him to me," she said. 

"A higher law! What do you mean, explain your- 
self," he asked as she clasped her hands together and 
looked towards heaven through the east window. 



74 THE ADOPTION 

"He is mine, God bless his little soul," as tears were 
rolling down her cheeks. 

"You are an enigma, you are talking in riddles," 
said he. "What in the world do you mean?" 

By this time the sun was rising. They had been 
up all night talking in these loud and sometimes low, 
pathetic tones. Morning had come now, and Titus 
could hear the Doctor and Mabel talking for several 
hours before he had arisen, and he got the drift of the 
conversation very plain. Many times he came very 
near coming in and shielding her from such villainous 
talk that she received from her husband, but he waited 
until this moment, when he had heard him say he 
would take the custody of the child. 

"This boy is flesh of my flesh and blood of my 
blood. I am entitled to him, if not by legal right, 
I am by moral and by the right of heaven, for he 
is my own dear child, nursed on my bosom." 

As the Doctor pressed his hands over his ears and 
passed faster and faster back and forth in the room, 
as though he could not bear to get the import or 
meaning she meant to convey, at the same time groan- 
ing, "Oh, my God, oh, my God, woman, woman, 
awful, awful. I have been deceived, I have been de- 
ceived. But I am attached to Roy. What you say 
may be true and it may not be true. I am going to 



THE ADOPTION 75 

keep him myself. You may go, you may go where 
you like/* 

At this moment Titus entered the room, and said, 

*'Yes, Mabel, you have your child, for it is your 
child and I am its father. I am no longer your but- 
ler, but your husband, by the laws of heaven. My 
name is Titus Vespatius H anion, and am from Clif- 
ton, England. I lived in the old manor house. I met 
you on the Downs by the City of Clifton. My God, 
Mabel Crawford, don't you know me? I am the one 
who kept you prisoner in my home. I left you be- 
cause I took morphine and had not the courage to 
stay by you." 

Mabel was utterly overcome, by one extreme fol- 
lowing the other — one of sorrow, the other of bliss. 
She stood for a moment in amazement, and then ran 
to Titus. They embraced each other with all the 
affection their souls were endowed with. 

Doctor Knox was so amazed he could not speak 
or move at this moment. Mabel and Titus were once 
more reunited. Tears of joy were shed by them both. 

"God has been so good at last to reunite us and 
our little one by adoption. This is your son that I 
promised I would christen in your name, Titus Ves- 
patius Hanlon, Jr. Here is the scapular," she said 
as she turned to Doctor Knox and read the name 



^6 THE ADOPTION 

written thereon in indelible ink. "And here is the 
letter that I received from the Van Renslers." 

The Doctor read slowly, at last dropping his head 
and sobbing. Then, going into the next room he 
placed a revolver to his temple and killed himself. 

Hearing the report of the gun, Titus and Mabel 
realized instantly what had happened. As the foot- 
man came running in to tell them Doctor Knox had 
killed himself, they embraced each other over the 
form of the slumbering boy, whose name would be 
changed for the fourth and last time. 

THE END 



INFINITE LOVE 



Chapter I 



Across the bay from Queenstown, Ireland, is the 
picturesque Httle town of Crosshaven, which Hes in 
the most beautiful of all Ireland's rural districts, with 
groves, moors, streams and all of Nature's possibili- 
ties, to make it beautiful and charming to those who 
are susceptible to Nature's masterpiece. 'Twas here 
in this village Florence Snow lived with her parents, 
who were well-to-do. Her father was a sailor, which 
necessitated his being away from his family the most 
of the time. Florence was very fond of her father 
and mother and was naturally very loving, amiable, 
sympathetic and tender-hearted. 

She had had but little experience in the world, so 
knew but little of the wrongs and ways of the world. 
All through her young life she had had day-dreams, 
and would study by the hour in her lethargic or 
hypnotic moods. She often would remark, the inno- 
cence and beauty of all God does, our undying love 
for Christ, our everlasting love for beautiful flowers; 
so is not the flower and everything in Nature to live 
forever somewhere? We are part of God's nature. 



78 INFINITE LOVE 

though he gives us a mind to know right from 
wrong, and if we are pure Hke the flowers, we will 
live forever somewhere on some sphere (such was 
the inspiration of this creature). 

Florence had large, blue, heavenly eyes, dark 
brown, wavy tresses, which hung below her waist. 
Her cheeks were like the petals of a rose, when 
touched by the sun's rays. Florence was a second 
Venus, yet she was as innocent as a nursing babe. 

Chapter II 

Lorenzo was an American by birth, from an old 
New England State. He was a descendant of the 
Puritans, had gained his education at Yale College, 
where he was given an M. A. degree, though this 
was not enough for Lorenzo. He was so active and 
wished to fathom the depths of the sea of knowledge, 
that he went to Europe with the financial aid of his 
father, and took a five-year course in medicine. After 
acquiring the degree of M. D., he desired to see the 
world, which he did. Returning to Vienna, Austria, 
where he had graduated in medicine two years before, 
he started the practice of medicine, but had not prac- 
ticed long before he received word of his father's 
death, which necessitated his returning to America 
to his old home. 



INFINITE LOVE 79 

His father had left him quite wealthy, but, after 
staying on the old farm homestead with his mother 
and brother for a few weeks, Lorenzo became rest- 
less and desired to start out in the world with the 
$1,200.00 income he had left to him, and meet his 
future fortune or failure. Lorenzo went to Boston, 
and while there he turned to his medical profession 
for the second time and was very successful. He 
was of a literary turn of mind, but apt to be the 
least melancholy in disposition. His habits were 
above reproach, and as far as education went he was 
far above the average professional man; and as for 
personal appearance he was said to be handsome, six 
feet tall, with military carriage, and graceful in all 
his movements, with dark brown hair, dark eyes and 
clear complexion. He seemed endowed with every- 
thing necessary to carry him through life without any 
great exertion. 

Nature had done so much for Lorenzo, yet he 
scarcely ever thought of it, as he was not at all proud 
or egotistical. He was twenty-eight years of age, 
and his life had been one of study and travel, so he 
had experienced no romance or love, but love was 
to be his future fate. 

His life was now at a crisis. One evening as 
Lorenzo walked into the lobby of the hotel, where 
he was boarding, and went to the desk to receive his 



8o INFINITE LOVE 

mail from the clerk, as he had done many evenings 
before, he was handed several letters, two of which 
were from his mother, and a third, the handwriting 
of which he did not recognize, and which he opened 
first. It read as follows : 

Lorenzo Adams, Esq., M.D. 

Dear Sir: We are to have a gathering of friends at my 
home, 141 Commonwealth Ave. at 8:00 o'clock, Wednesday 
evening, February 23, in honor of Miss Florence Snow, of 
Crosshaven, Ireland, who has been one of our guests since 
January first, and we desire your presence at this reception. 
Respectfuly yours, 
Boston, Mass., February 21, 1899. Bertha Johnson. 

After Lorenzo read this invitation from Miss John- 
son, whom he had met only in a professional way, 
by attendance on her father while sick, he sank into 
a chair at the supper table, and leaning his head on 
his hand, he fell to wondering whether to accept or 
decline it, but he happened to think of a dress suit, 
which he had purchased on the Boulevard de Capra- 
cino, Paris, which he had never worn, and thought 
this would be a good opportunity to display it. 

The day of the party was spent by Lorenzo in 
preparation for the event. Arriving at the Johnson 
mansion, although he was somewhat late, he was re- 
ceived with due courtesy and led into the drawing 
room, where he was introduced to all the gxiests by 
Miss Bertha Johnson. His handsome, manly figure. 



INFINITE LOVE 8i 

immediately attracted the attention of all the ladies, 
especially Florence Snow, and later in the evening 
when relating some of the adventures of his travels, 
all the ladies seemed to be giving him most of their 
attention. 

As soon as Lorenzo glanced in Florence's eyes, 
and saw the depth and beauty there was in them, he 
was entranced by her charms, and there seemed to 
be a strong affinity between them, although they had 
hardly exchanged a word. When it was nearly time 
for refreshments, in order to decide who should be 
partners for supper, the ladies' names were to be 
drawn by the gentlemen from a hat. Lorenzo seemed 
reluctant over the mode of procedure, but as yet 
had said nothing. He was on the point of suggest- 
ing that each should select his own partner, but think- 
ing this might be a breach of etiquette on his part, 
he decided to leave it to Providence to draw the name 
of the one he felt that he almost loved, even at this 
early hour. When he placed his hand in the hat, it 
trembled so that he could scarcely grasp one of the 
papers, and at the same time looked at Florence with 
such an anxious expression, one could see that they 
were both fearful that the Fates would not be kind 
to them. 

But it was foreordained that they should become 
more closely acquainted and as Lorenzo looked at 



82 INFINITE LOVE 

the paper, with trembhng hands and flushed face, he 
saw the name "Florence Snow," which seemed to 
make his heart beat normal again. As they went 
arm in arm to supper, Lorenzo asked permission to 
call at some future date, which was granted, the time 
set for the following Sunday afternoon, and arrange- 
ments made for a w^alk in the Park. As Lorenzo 
walked home that night from the party, with every- 
thing so still around him— not even a breath of air 
stirring in the sleeping city — he thought the beautiful 
canopy of stars had never shone so brightly and that 
life had never seemed so sweet as now that love had 
entered it; and all he could hear the rest of the 
night was her last words, ''Good night, Mr. Adams." 
They were singing in his ears and from this time 
on Florence Snow was 

"The meditations of his heart, 

The inspiration of his theme; 

If together or apart, 

'Twas she awake, or she in dream." 

Chapter III 

On Sunday Lorenzo called and he and Florence 
started out for a stroll in the Park. It was a beau- 
tiful day for February; the snow had all melted and 
disappeared, the sun was shining brightly, the air 
was warm, and as far as the weather was concerned, 



INFINITE LOVE 83 

everything seemed to be in their favor. But Florence 
seemed to be down-hearted, with htde to say, and 
not at all as she was the night of the party. This 
worried Lorenzo, so as they rested on a rustic seat 
in the Park, he asked Florence why she was so down- 
cast. She did not answer at once, but sat with low- 
ered gaze, nervously stirring the gravel with her 
parasol, until Lorenzo said again, "Florence, tell me, 
tell me, what is the trouble, why do you act so 
melancholy ?'* 

"Mr. Adams," she said, 'T have heard from home 
and I am obliged to take the 'Teutonic' tomorrow 
evening to return to my home at Crosshaven, Ire- 
land.'* 

"Must you go, Miss Snow, must you go? O! what 
will I do without you? Florence, how can I spare 
you, for I love you, I love you, I cannot have you 

go." 

"Lorenzo, I must go, although I do not want to 
leave you, but my mother is very sick, and I must 
go to her." 

"Only under such circumstances, dear one, can I 
see you leave me, but may I see you off at the pier, 
in New York?" 

"I should be delighted to have you," said Florence, 
"but Bertha Johnson and her father are going with 
me, as far as New York, so it would not be pleasant 



84 INFINITE LOVE 

for either of us, but remember I love you Lorenzo, 
and will love you when near or far, and will think 
of you until we meet again. 

Taking something from his pocket, Lorenzo said 
to Florence, ''Here is a small gold locket, containing 
a miniature likeness of myself, take it and wear it 
on your neck until we meet again." At length as 
they were strolling homeward, Florence said to Lo- 
renzo, "Will you not come over to Ireland, this sum- 
mer, to see me?" Lorenzo replied, "Yes, dear Flor- 
ence, I will come, if I have to work my passage 
across the ocean." By this time they had nearly 
reached the Johnson home, so they stopped and clasp- 
ing each other's hands they bade each other a lover's 
typical long farewell. With tearful eyes, Florence 
begged Lorenzo to come to her home in the summer, 
and he assured her that nothing but death would 
prevent him from doing so. 

Chapter IV 

Much better had the eyes ne'er seen, 

Nor heart of Love been swollen, 
Since the ocean now must roll between, 

And away her mother's stolen. 

On arriving at old Erin's shore 

The news awaited thee, 
Your mother lives on earth no more. 

She has crossed the immortal sea. 



INFINITE LOVE 85 

"How green the fields, O God ! how still the brook 
does flow, how sweet the birds do sing, yet how 
heavy my heart does grow. O ! mother, as I sit here 
on this lonely, yet beautiful shore, can you not come 
to me?" This was the burden of Florence's daily 
thoughts, and as she would sit on the rocks and 
watch the waves, breaking on the sands, she would 
think of her absent lover far over the roaring sea, 
and of her dead mother, who had been her only com- 
panion. At such times, she would cry: "Mother, 
mother, come to me, come if but for a moment and 
comfort your heart-broken child." 

She would look at a bird, perching nearby and 
exclaim, "I wish I were a bird, that I might fly far 
away up to my mother in the sky, the blue, blue sky, 
the emblem of purity and home of deliverance, where 
mothers and daughters are never parted." 

She took the locket from her neck, and looking at 
the picture, thought of Lorenzo and why did he not 
come to her. "Dear Lord," she cried, "has all the 
world forsaken me? O my heavy heart! Dear Lord, 
if thou canst not send my mother to me, I pray thee 
send Lorenzo, or I shall die for want of mortal love." 
As Florence got up to go back through the weary 
fields, home, the sun slipped behind the western 
horizon, and as it threw its long rays athwart the 



86 INFINITE LOVE 

sea at her feet, she gazed at the close of day and 
thought : 

So clear a sun, 

So clear a sea. 

So green the moor surrounding one 

So dark as me. 

Lord, can it be 

That thou hast done 

The lighting of the glorious sun, 

And calmed the sea, 

For other mortals and for me. 

And covered o'er the valley green, 

And left this wearied soul between 

My living lover o'er the deep? 

How can I love this glorious scene 

With him away and she asleep 

Since mother's dead. 

And I am led 

Away so far from all I love; 

My heart has bled 

For her above. 

For Lorenzo and a mother's love. 

God bring her, though it be a wonder 

To calm a soul that's crushed asunder. 



Chapter V 

"O, this bleak, weary world! Why did I meet her? 
Yet I was foreordained to meet her ; I love her, loved 
her even before I met her. I have seen her in my 
dreams at night; while smoking, I have seen visions 
of her earthly form. O Florence, you live in my 



INFINITE LOVE 87 

heart, you have my love, my soul ; I cannot stay 
from you. The world is not a world, without you. 
If I must ever be without you, God disembody my 
soul that I may take up my spirit abode in mansions 
above, so that I may descend to my love in Cross- 
haven, in spirit. I am so restless, the most beautiful 
summer day, the sweetest summer morning, the flow- 
ers, pure as the breath of love; all of these, which 
were once so sweet to me, without her whom I love 
so ardently, are now but a mockery. Thus Lorenzo 
soliloquized and his soliloquy became a dream. 

He dreamed that he must arrange his business, 
cease his practice of medicine and fly to Florence 
across the sea; that she is pining away for him and 
the loss of her mother, and that she will be drowned 
in the river Lee, near an island. He awakened in 
the morning tired, weary and worn, yet determined 
to say farewell to his mother and fly to his love. 
Although he felt that he would never return to his 
mother's side again, he still thought it his duty to 
go, and with a choking voice he bade his mother a 
solemn farewell with these words : 

"Mother, think not harsh of me, 
Though I leave you for another, 
I am called by God to comfort thee, 
A lonely soul, dear mother. 

I'll calm a heart which once was blest 
Though from your side I'm led. 



88 INFINITE LOVE 

If ever I am laid to rest, 
Yours will be comforted. 

Throw bread upon the mortal seas, 
Relieve the breast that burns, 
Then gratitude rolls back to thee 
The bread two-fold returns. 

Lorenzo took passage aboard the Leucania, and at 
length arrived at Queenstown. 'Twas in the month 
of July when the flowers were in full bloom and 
the temperature not unpleasantly warm; the sun was 
shining brightly, the birds were singing their sweet- 
est songs, not a breath seemed to stir the foliage, and 
all Nature seemed to be in a dreamy happy mood. 
The next afternoon, after his arrival at Queenstown, 
Lorenzo was ferried across the calm waters to Cross- 
haven. He there inquired where the Snow residence 
was, and was directed to the place by the butler of 
the family who were the Snow's nearest neighbors, 
and who also added the information that the father 
had been gone for months, and since the mother's 
death Florence, the daughter, spent nearly every 
afternoon down on the moor where the river emptied 
into the sea. Lorenzo thanked the butler and started 
in the direction of the moor. He slowly and quietly 
descended the hill, and at the foot of which Florence 
was sitting on the banks of the little stream in deep 
meditation. He was not at first certain that it was 
Florence, but continuing on his way he finally came 



INFINITE LOVE 89 

near enough to hear her soHloquizing, and then he 
knew it was she whom he sought, and his heart beat 
faster, and seemed to rise up in his throat so that he 
could not have spoken had he so desired. He stood 
there gazing on his love; she, to whom he had given 
his heart; she, for whom he had left his mother; 
she, who was life itself to him. Florence was dressed 
in white, of some soft clinging material, which 
showed to perfection her graceful curves. She had 
been writing poetry and Lorenzo was the muse that 
inspired her, but she had ceased writing, and leaning 
her head on her hand, was weeping and calling for 
Lorenzo, who she thought was across the sea, all 
unconscious that the object of her thoughts was so 
near. 

Although the stream at her feet was rippling and 
sparkling over its pebbly bed, the whole atmosphere 
perfumed with the breath of flowers, the sunlight 
streaming through the trees onto her waving tresses, 
and all Nature bright and beautiful, still Florence 
would not be comforted, but was weeping for her 
mother and longing for Lorenzo. She looked up to 
Heaven and said: 

"O God, the power of all powers, the greatest of 
all, what have I done, how have I offended thee, that 
I should suffer such penance? O Lord, I appeal to 
thee in this hour of despondency and heart-torture, 



90 INFINITE LOVE 

to thee, with whom nothing is impossible, to take me 
to heaven at this moment, to my dear mother, or 
send to me my love to comfort me." 

As she finished speaking, she saw a light in the 
sky and heard these words: Lorenzo, Lorenzo. "O 
my God, is he dead, is he dead? Lorenzo, come to 
me, if you have gone to the spirit world, come to me 
and tell me if my dear mother is there, and take me 
there with you." As she stood in despair calling 
Lorenzo, he, having crept nearly to her, called out 
in a choking voice: 

"Florence, Florence, my love, my life, your prayer 
is answered, I have come to you in flesh and blood, 
to go no more away." 

At the sound of that loved voice, Florence turned 
and looked into that face, which was more beautiful 
to her than any picture in art, or any of Nature's 
scenes, and exclaimed: 

''Lorenzo! God is good." 

They then embraced each other and mingling their 
tears together, they thanked the Lord for permitting 
them to meet again in this world. 

Chapter VI 

Lorenzo lived in Queenstown and made the Central 
Hotel his home. He visited Florence three or four 



INFINITE LOVE 91 

times a week; they took short tours up the river Lee 
to Cork to hear the Shandon Bells; they walked arm 
in arm along the Marina and Mardyke, visited the 
town of Blarney, ascended to Blarney Castle and 
tried to kiss the Blarney stone; they visited the lakes 
of Killarney and both thought how different the world 
was now with love in it. One pleasant afternoon 
Lorenzo hurried across the Crosshaven to visit Flor- 
ence, and they walked out to the spot where she had 
spent so many solemn and lonely hours, and where 
he had found her weeping and praying for her 
mother and for him. It was a beautiful day and they 
sat on the ground making plans for the future. After 
a few minutes silence came upon them, and they both 
sat looking at the flowing stream at their feet. Flor- 
ence at length became worried at the prolonged 
silence and asked Lorenzo if he were ill, that he was 
so very quiet. Roused from his dreamy state, Lo- 
renzo said to her: * 'Florence, I have something to 
ask of you. Darling, I have never asked you if you 
would marry me, will you, Florence?" 

"Will I marry you, Lorenzo? Yes, I will be mar- 
ried to you by the laws of man, although by the 
laws of God we have been married all our lives, and 
such marriages can never be broken, nor can death 
itself separate us, but only bring us closer together 
after a short separation, in a world more beautiful 



92 INFINITE LOVE 

than this, where we will nevermore part, and where 
Christ, not man, reigns as king." 

Lorenzo then said : ''Florence, if I should die first, 
come to this spot here near your mother's grave, and 
I will return to you in spirit and tell you of the 
heaven above, and console you until it is time for you 
to come to me there. I wish you to bury me beside 
your mother here, and to see that my mother is 
buried by me on this same spot, and I hope you will 
live and take care of my mother until death. Will 
you do this, dearest Florence?" 

"Indeed I will, Lorenzo, and should I die first, 
I will come to you from the realms above and tell 
you of our future habitation, and I wish you to lay 
my form to rest beside my mother's here on this 
spot, and we will make that an agreement between 
us, and if I come to you and you do not recognize 
me, I will tell you of the locket you gave me, con- 
taining a likeness of yourself." 

Lorenzo asked Florence if she believed in the im- 
mortality of the soul. She answered and said: 

"Yes, Lorenzo, I do believe in it, but have no 
absolute proof of it, yet I feel that it must be so, for 
if not, and our existence stops here, this earth might 
as well be blotted out. But if there is a spirit heaven, 
this earth is a middle ground to try our souls and 



INFINITE LOVE 93 

prepare us for a higher and better sphere, do you not 
think the same, Lorenzo?" 

*'Yes, love, those are my sentiments exactly. O 
Florence, is not such a belief a hope that if mortals 
like you and I are separated by death, before marriage 
on earth, we will be married by the law of love in 
heaven, and if we are married on earth by man's law, 
and are separated by death, afterwards we are re- 
united in heaven to never part again." 

"Well, dear, we will leave it that way at least, and 
as 'tis growing late, we had better start at once." As 
they went away arm in arm, and had nearly gotten 
out of sight of the spot so sacred to both, they turned 
their eyes once more in that direction and asked God 
to bless it. When they had reached the pier where 
Lorenzo was to take the ferry to Queenstown, he 
placed his arm around his dear Florence and im- 
plored her to remember what she had said about 
coming to him in spirit, if anything befell her. He 
kissed her again and again, not knowing that he was 
kissing those mortal lips for the last time. 

Farewell! Oh word what depth to thee; 

How many truths each day you tell; 
This word a clairvoyant you see, 

All times adieu you oft foretell. 

We take its meaning as goobye, 

In other ways applies as well. 
To Florence! soul above the sky, 

With God you will fare well. 



94 INFINITE LOVE 

Chapter VII 

One bright morning Florence made her toilet early 
and took the io:oo o'clock ferry boat for Queens- 
town, intending to take the train from there and go 
to Cork to do some shopping. But as the ferry boat 
neared Spike Islands, it collided with another ferry 
and filled with water and sank at once, only four of 
the crew being saved from a watery grave. Florence 
had gone to the depths of the bay to remain forever 
in silent death. The news of the disaster quickly 
reached Queenstown, and many boats were sent out 
to offer aid in finding the bodies of the unfortunates. 
Lorenzo heard of the disaster, but had not the slight- 
est idea that Florence was one of the victims. He 
was not to call on her again until the next afternoon, 
and having nothing else to do, he thought he would 
volunteer his services in helping to find the bodies 
of the ill-fated passengers. For some unaccountable 
reason he had felt depressed and unhappy all that 
morning and was also laboring under a strong im- 
pression that Florence was sick, or was going to die; 
so he thought he would go to help recover the bodies 
and then go to Crosshaven to see Florence. 

As he, with the other men, had almost reached the 
scene of the collision, the first thing they saw near 



INFINITE LOVE 95 

the shore of the island, was the body of a woman 
with her beautiful hair floating on the surface of the 
water. As they steered for this, one of the old sailors 
reached over to pull the stricken form into the boat; 
all gazed on it with anxious eyes. As the sailor lifted 
her head up to the bulwarks of the boat, Lorenzo 
gave a shriek and leaning forward he grasped the 
cold form of her that was, in all the earth, the nearest 
his heart and the idol of his soul. As he lifted her in 
the boat, he pressed her to his breast with his strong 
arms, and called to her, "Florence, Florence, speak 
to me, my God, are you dead? O God, unjust God, 
why did you take her from me." As Lorenzo uttered 
these words, he fell in a faint with the body in his 
arms. 

Chapter VIII 

The remains of the unfortunate girl were taken 
to her home, and Lorenzo would not leave the bier 
day or night, and kept it covered with the most beau- 
tiful flowers he could purchase. He remembered her 
wishes to be buried in the moor, on the beautiful spot 
where she had spent so many solemn, and also so 
many pleasant hours, and so had her grave prepared 
on this sacred spot, by the side of her mother. At 
the funeral Lorenzo could scarcely control himself, 



g6 INFINITE LOVE 

and when he took the last look at her, just before 
they lowered her into the grave, he raised his eyes 
to heaven and implored God to take his life that he 
might be buried with her. 

No life will be a living care, 

To love I am a slave, 
Of all the earth I ask to share, 

Is part of Florence's grave. 

God grant my wish, TU ask no more, 
How can I live from her apart? 

While burying her I cover o'er 
Her form, with her, my heart. 



Chapter IX 

Many afternoons in Ireland's golden sunshine, Lo- 
renzo visited that isolated, yet beautiful spot. In his 
mind that little horizon was all there was of earth; 
his thoughts were centered and concentrated on Flor- 
ence, and this lonely moor. As the weaves dashed 
against the shore, at his feet, he thought how inno- 
cent they seemed, yet how treacherous. 

As the waves are rolling at thy feet, 

From out the deathly scene, 
Each wave he hears the name repeat — 

Florence — Florence — Florence. 

Lorenzo would sit on the rocks by the sea, in deep 
thought for a time; then he would rise and walk 



INFINITE LOVE 97 

back to the grave of his love, on which he would 
place flowers every afternoon, and sit and weep. 

I place these flowers o'er your mound 

O'er my heart, my dove 
I weep and kneel upon this ground, 

And kiss the dust, I love. 

One dark gloomy afternoon when the sky was all 
overcast and the grass wet from the morning show- 
ers, Lorenzo was sitting by Florence' grave in a very 
gloomy frame of mind. His heart was nearly broken, 
and he became choked and suffocated and cried out 
as though he was in agonizing pain (and he was in 
the most excruciating of all pain, that of heart-broken 
grief). At this moment of utter despair he raised his 
hands and looked to Heaven and prayed for relief (as 
all mortals do when they have no avenue of escape 
or consolation). "But 'tis darkness before the dawn.*' 

At this he heard a clarion voice, and looked around 
but could see no one. Then in Florence's voice, he 
heard the words: "Weep no more, but come to the 
grave tonight at eight o'clock, and I will come to you 
as I promised and tell you of our future happiness 
in spirit heaven." At this Lorenzo brightened up 
and remembered the covenant they had made with 
each other, at this same spot, the last time they were 
there together. 



98 INFINITE LOVE 



Chapter X 

Lorenzo came to the moor at six o'clock. The 
grass was wet, the weather very gloomy and he rest- 
lessly paced back and forth waiting for the time to 
arrive that he might see once more his beloved Flor- 
ence, though only in spirit. 

Lighting a match he looked at his watch, and 
seeing it was nearly eight o'clock, he went and sat 
down on Florence's grace. The night was very dark 
and it soon began to rain a fine drizzle which was 
very depressing, and every few moments the sky in 
the northwest was streaked with vivid flashes of 
lightning. It was now an hour past the time when 
Florence said she would come to him and she had 
not yet come, and Lorenzo was disappointed, wet, and 
discouraged with the whole world, and being very 
tired, he lay down on Florence's grave, caring not 
what became of him. He finally fell asleep and be- 
gan to dream of Florence, and that he was with her 
in Heaven. He dreamed he met her on an ethereal 
avenue, that looked like the milky way, not illumi- 
nated by earthly lights, but by the ever shining stars 
above. Before he reached her, as they came toward 
each other, she looked very queenly to him. She 
was robed in a thin, white substance, and had upon 



INFINITE LOVE 99 

her head a golden diadem, set with the finest of 
sparkling gems. She looked like a queen and was a 
queen over many heavenly souls. She recognized 
him, and as they met they embraced each other, but 
as they started off on this avenue to the great domain 
of Heaven itself, he awakened from his sweet dream, 
wet, cold, and hungry. He lit another match and 
looked at his watch and said to himself, "It is 12:00 
o'clock, and Florence has not come to me, as she 
promised, or did I imagine she said she would come 
to me?" 

He became more desperate and lay down on Flor- 
ence's grave again, saying to himself: "I care not 
what becomes of me; God, let me fade away into 
oblivion." 

He fell asleep and began to dream of Florence, a 
dream that was not in vain. As he dreamed, he saw 
her coming through space to him with light all about 
her angelic form. She came in spirit and knelt at 
his side on her own grave, and passed her angel-hand 
over his care-worn brow, caressing him while he slept 
and dreamed. She placed her arms under his head, 
and kissing him, whispered in his ear: 

"Wake, wake Lorenzo! I have come to you and 
for you. You are going to Heaven with me tonight, 
where you will be out of your misery and care, and 
where we will ever be as one." 



100 INFINITE LOVE 

Lorenzo awakened at these words, and seeing her 
angelic form, placed his arms about her neck as he 
said to her: "I was dreaming that you were at my 
side. Am I dreaming still, can it really be you, Flor- 
ence? Can it be you whom I love? O, prove to me 
that it is you." 

*'Do you remember the locket you gave me, in 
America, having your likeness within? Do you re- 
member, when we were last here, I told you I would 
come to you and show you this locket and tell you 
about Heaven? Lorenzo, we will never be parted 
there by death or any other means, and though we 
were not married on earth, we will be married in 
Heaven, and God, not man, shall officiate. So, Lo- 
renzo, come with me to Heaven where you will meet 
your dear mother, who has just come, and where my 
mother and all of us will meet our dear ones yet to 
come, and where there is no separation." 

At this Lorenzo's soul pierced through Life's mor- 
tal membrane, and with locked arms Florence and 
Lorenzo passed into eternal bliss, where all who love 
as purely and truly as these, will meet to part no 
more, and where the waves from the silvery sea beat 
upon the shore so softly, where the moors are more 
beautiful, where the flowers have a sweeter aroma, 
and where all is love. 



INFINITE LOVE loi 

The hour we may welcome death, 

We cannot lend bliss or borrow, 
When we pray to God to take our breath, 

And relieve our living sorrow. 

When earth is like a dungeon gloom, 

And loved ones torn asunder, 
Man whose last hope death assumes. 
Is wish for death a wonder? 

Nor is the brain and heart of ease, 

When clime and day is pleasant, 
Love plays the part it all will please 

Rich, poor, friar and peasant. 



THE ASTECS AND TPIE LOST ATLANTIS 

My hypothesis of how the Astecs originated in the 
Western Hemisphere may seem very crude to many. 
But it is very plausible in my mind, if I may use 
mythology to aid me in any hj^pothetical narrative. 

According to the Talmud and Scripture, there was 
a lost tribe. My idea is they immigrated west across 
the Isthmus of Suez, which at that time was in a 
condition that it might be traversed on foot. After 
reaching Egypt, they marched on to Morocco. From 
there, by means of small boats or galleys, they could 
have reached the Cape Verde islands, and on to the 
Lost Atlantis, which was at that time in its preserved 
state; and from here, they could have reached the 
West Indies and thence to Yucatan, where there is 
much archeological proof of the once existence of a 
race of people as far advanced in both art and learn- 
ing as the Egyptians. 

I have seen temples and tombs with hieroglyphics 
on them that were said to be as old or older than 
those on the Cleopatra Needle at Heliopolis, Egypt. 
The Astec Indians are a race of people much more 
advanced mentally than any other race of Indians on 



THE ASTECS 103 

the American continents, so the question arises, 
"Where did the Astecs originate from?" 

We are told the Island of Atlantis was the island 
where the pack of cards first originated. The Lost 
Atlantis which was swallowed up in one night by the 
sea was the only country that had four lakes near 
together in the center of the island, and four rivers 
running into each one of the lakes — one from the 
north, one from the east, one from the south and one 
from the west. This would divide the island into 
four countries. These four countries were governed 
by four kings and queens, and each river had nine 
tributaries, which divided each country into nine 
smaller states, each one of them governed by the 
king's vassals. 

From this the pack of playing cards that is used 
until this day was planned. They had the four aces 
to represent the four lakes; the kings and queens to 
represent the four countries; the four jacks to repre- 
sent the four rivers; the ten-spots, nine-spots and so 
on to the two-spot represent the nine Cantons or 
small States that are divided by the tributaries of 
the larger rivers. The clubs and spades were two 
countries that were naturally endowed with the art 
of fighting for a livelihood. This was symbolized 
with the black figure or club. Black has a pugnacious, 
coarse effect that gives a more robust enduring spirit. 



I04 THE ASTECS 

Spades, which are also black, which was the national 
emblem of another of these four countries, which was 
given more to agriculture. 

These two countries were diagonally opposite each 
other. The country with the diamond emblem was 
inhabited by artisans, while the heart characterized 
the fourth country. They were the whitest race on 
the island, more prepossessing, and their personal 
beauty would cause many of the plutocrats from the 
adjoining countries to marry their daughters. 

Red was the color because red lent a more soft and 
more artistic effect, which coincided with their natural 
bearing. 

This is said to be the explanation of the cards as 
they are today. The cards were sacred to them. It 
was their Bible. Every card had some occult or 
psychological meaning to it, and they said as the 
Revelations of St. John say of the word of God : 

*'Let no one add to or take away." 

Likewise with the pack of cards. Let no one add 
to or take away, or the pack will be ruined, which 
has been proven by adding the Joker, which really 
ruins the game. 



THE NAPOLEON DYNASTY 

While visiting the Hotel des Invalides or the Tomb 
of Emperor Napoleon — which in my mind is the 
most magnificent tomb in the world, with one ex- 
ception, and that is the Taj Mahal of Agra, India — 
the thought came to me how great men often come 
from almost plebeian ancestors. Napoleon was born 
in the island of Corsica. His parents were poor, but 
there was a nucleus of greatness in Napoleon that 
grew as he grew. 

'Toets are born and not made," so are generals. 
Napoleon could not acquire the wisdom, versatility 
and strategy that he displayed at Austerlitz, Wagram 
or Jena, nor the diplomacy and executive ability 
shown as emperor of colossal France. The natural 
propensities or merits that Napoleon was endowed 
with raised him from frugality to Emperor of, what 
was at that time, the most powerful nation on Earth. 

Although the Napoleon dynasty had a rapid 
growth, it was and must always be looked upon as 
the one great masterpiece of history. How strange 
that Napoleon should die in exile at St. Helena, under 
the British Crown, after making himself Emperor of 



io6 THE NAPOLEON DYNASTY 

France. And not long after, his beloved wife, Em- 
press Josephine, who was the wife of M. Beauharnais 
prior to her espousal to Napoleon, and by whom she 
gave birth to Hortense. Hortense later married Na- 
poleon's brother, Louis, and was blessed with a son, 
who was elected the first President of the French 
Republic, but afterwards ignored the French chamber 
of deputies, and proclaimed himself Emperor of 
France. Like Napoleon, the First, he had attained 
the height of royal ostentation, and he, likewise, must 
retrosrress and die in exile under the British crown. 



ROCK OF GIBRALTAR 

As I passed through the Straits of Gibraltar, I let 
my eyes wander over the famous rock, which is a 
natural fortification, honey-combed and tunneled by 
mortal hands. Within this rock are nineteen hundred 
guns pedestaled upon their revolving turrets, facing 
the Atlantic, the key to the Mediterranean. Capped 
on its slanting side is the city of Gibraltar. The base 
is washed by the ever dashing waves, and the dimmed 
and shaded peak may be seen above the dark, descend- 
ing clouds. 

This is not "Cheops," but God's pyramid. This is 
not a mausoleum to commemorate the decarnate, nor 
to perpetuate the name and glories of some mortal 
man. It seemed to me more like the timber head of 
safety to fasten our line of hope, and confidence, and 
satisfaction, contained within the spirit hand of God 
to demonstrate to His children the strength of nature 
— the Rock of Hope, the Pyramid of our Creator. 

Yonder, across the way, more power lies. This 
state is Morocco; its pedestal, a rock; in form, a 
crest. Its collonade of pillars, a strait that separates 
the land from land, and the sea from sea. 



io8 ROCK OF GIBRALTAR 

But thou art not a master-piece of mortal fame. 
Thou art the pillared Power-God, Hercules, which 
represents the power of truth, but not the name. 



AN EPITOME OF FOUR DECEIVERS 

Henry, erratic and vacillating, does not really know 
his heart, it is as changeable as the pendulum of a 
clock, it swings from one side to the other, yet ticks 
or beats away the sweetest of all time which is the 
time of mortal love. Eva sits in meditating mood 
looking out from her father's country summer house 
early in May, the wild violets just peeping through 
showing their innocent heads, the spring zephyrs play- 
ing about and now and then disturbing Eva's auburn 
curls, until one falls in front of her placid pensive 
brow. She gracefully strokes it back carelessly as 
she speaks in almost audible tones, "I love Henry, I 
love him and I must have him at any cost. He 
thinks that I do not know he is going with Eva 
Page and at the same time making visits to see me. 
Of course I am older than Henry and must be liberal 
and excuse this in him, I suppose, for he does not 
know perhaps which one of us he loves the most. 
Plenry has been very devoted to Miss Eva for the 
last three months, has called regularly, semi-weekly, 
and has fallen in love with her. He makes his dec- 



no AN EPITOME OF 

larations of love to her, but they are not engaged 
as yet." 

One evening he called to take her to a social gath- 
ering in the neighborhood and Eva is attired in a 
gown with short sleeves and low neck. Eva has a 
very beautiful figure, yet has a birthmark on her 
neck in the shape of a rose bud. It is sort of wine 
color and located on the left shoulder. This does 
not disfigure her in the least, to the most observing 
eye, as Eva is so immaculate in her dress and she 
has this birthmark nearly covered with the white lace 
edging of her gown. Henry has observed this slight 
blemish in Eva, but says nothing, of course, but 
thinks to himself a birthmark is of some use; one 
might be identified by it. 

They have a very enjoyable time at the party and 
Henry escorts Eva home. In a nearby city lives an- 
other Eva Page that is an exact counterpart of Eva 
Page No. I. She has hair and eyes alike; is of the 
same age; their voices are alike, mannerisms the 
same, play the same pieces on the piano, dance alike 
and cannot be told apart, and their names happen to 
be the same. 

Eva No. I had met Eva No. 2 some time since, 
and they had become the best of friends. Henry 
was not aware of this. Eva No. i kept this from 
Henry because she knew he had met Eva No. 2 and 



i 



FOUR DECEIVERS iii 

was paying her visits. Eva No. 2 v^as a very loyal 
friend and would post her after each visit, and by 
this found out Henry was fast falling in love with 
Eva No. 2. Henry had a friend by the name of 
Ralph Cummings that was as much a counterpart of 
him as the two Evas were of each other. Henry had 
Ralph visiting Eva No. i while he was visiting Eva 
No. 2. This really worked for a while, but Ralph 
was too conscientious; he could not deceive her any 
longer and confessed he was not Henry Wakefield, 
but was just plain Ralph Cummings. This did not 
provoke Eva No. i, but made her all the more deter- 
mined to connive, as she had already done to get him 
at this point. The Evas exchanged homes with each 
other, and at the same time must keep it from their 
parents or they would prevent such actions. Eva 
No. 2 resided with her parents in Springfield, Mass., 
and Eva No. i made her home in the winter with 
her parents in the city of Boston. They also had a 
summer home just out of Boston. Henry had made 
his arrangements with Ralph to keep company with 
Eva No. I and use his name while he went to Spring- 
field to stay for a few months, that he may ascertain 
to his own satisfaction whether or not he loved Eva 
No. I or Eva No. 2 the most. Henry made his 
regular visits to her home and devoted himself very 
assiduously to her. Henry was an attorney and did 



112 AN EPITOME OF 

not wish to remain idle, so went in the law office of 
Sands & Colter. Ralph was fulfilling his mission with 
Eva No. I by this time, but there was not so much 
deception in Ralph; he could not be so false with 
her, as not to give his name, as after he made several 
calls under the cognomen Henry Wakefield, he di- 
vulged Henry's secrets. Ralph was fast falling in 
love with Eva No. i. Her musical acquirements 
were love inspiring to him, and completely overcame 
him. She also admired Ralph in many ways, but not 
as she did Henry. Henry was her ideal of a man. 
He had traveled extensively and was very striking in 
his physical make-up. He was very magnetic and 
there was a strong affinity between Eva No. i and 
Henry. The two Evas having known each other so 
long, and Eva No. t had often gone to pay long visits 
to Eva No. 2 at different times, unbeknown to either 
of these two gentlemen, Henry and Ralph, so they 
had acquired each other's ways to a marked degree, 
had their gowns made the same, of the same color, 
and what were not the same in the way of hats, jew- 
elry, etc., they had exchanged for the special occasion. 
It was one Wednesday morning that Eva called up 
Eva No. 2 by long distance telephone and they made 
their arrangements. Eva No. 2 was to come to her 
home before she left for Eva No. i. She arrived on 
the next morning's train and took up her abode at 



FOUR DECEIVERS 113 

Eva No. 2's home. Eva No. I's parents had left 
home for a visit in the South and they had left no 
one but the servants, so it was smooth sailing for her. 
Eva No. I goes alone to her friend's home, having 
been informed about the servants' names and all. She 
gets along nicely; both girls are in strange homes, 
but are making the best of their difficulty, and are 
surmounting every obstacle to make this a success. 
Henry makes his first call on Eva No. i which he 
supposes to be Eva No. 2. Eva receives him with 
some timidity and is reluctant about getting too near 
to him at first, and is evasive in talking about local 
matters as she knows she is not posted about the city. 
Yet they pass a very enjoyable evening together. Eva 
is so glad to have this opportunity to be with Henry 
again, for she idolizes him. While he is sitting with 
her one evening on the settee, he places his arms 
about her and tells her that he once had a lady friend 
who looked so much like her and also told her he 
loved her with one exception, the best of any person 
on earth, and, of course, the exception was her when 
he made this confession. Eva nearly laughed, but 
she kept from it. She asked where this other lady 
made her home, but Henry wouldn't tell her this; he 
told her he would tell her later. Henry by this time 
was fast falling deeply in love. Eva was doing all 
in her power to coil the net of love around him. Her 



114 AN EPITOME OF 

ways were so entrancing; her figure was that of 
Venus personified, or in other words, if the statue of 
Venus of Milo should come to life and walk out of 
the Louvre Museum of Paris it would not be more 
graceful than Eva, especially this evening in her 
beautiful gown. 

Henry is satisfied in his own mind that he loves 
whom he supposes to be Eva No. 2 the best, and 
there is nothing in the world that he would not 
sacrifice for her, so he proposes to her that they 
marry within the next two weeks; that he loves her 
to such an extent that he cannot wait any longer. 
Of course his proposal is accepted and the next even- 
ing he calls he places a diamond ring on her finger 
as an engagement ring. Henry writes the news to his 
friend and confederate, Ralph. Ralph receives the 
letter and laughs so heartily when he reads it, think- 
ing that he does not know that he has told his right 
name. Ralph has been continuing his visits and has 
not discovered any difference in the two Evas; he 
thinks he is going with Eva No. i. It has never 
entered his mind, other than tkat. However, Ralph 
becomes infatuated with his Eva the same as Henry, 
and proposes to her that they marry within two 
weeks. Henry has told him the date they were to 
marry and wants Ralph to marry the same day, so 
they agree to do this. All the time the two Evas are 



FOUR DECEIVERS 115 

having lots of fun telephoning and writing about the 
joke they are paying on the boys, and Henry is con- 
gratulating himself how politic it was of him to do 
as he did, by looking further, before deciding. 

Henry says to Eva that he has a very dear friend 
that is to be married the same day that he is, and 
that he would like to have a double wedding. Eva 
agrees to this at once, and thinks it would be some- 
thing novel and out of the ordinary. 

Ralph has by this time written to Henry and con- 
fessed to him that he has divulged his right name, 
so that enabled Henry to tell his friend's name, think- 
ing, of course, she knew nothing of him, or her. 
Ralph receives a letter that he shows his fiancee, stat- 
ing that they have a double wedding, which is readily 
accepted. 

Ralph has been informed by Henry that the two 
ladies were so near alike in every way that it was 
impossible to tell them apart. The time had arrived, 
the wedding day was at hand. Ralph and Eva were 
to come to Boston, which they did; they were to 
meet at the First Congregational Church at 1 1 .-30 
a.m. After going to the hotel and having lunch 
and arranging their apparel for traveling, they pro- 
ceeded to the church where they met Henry and Eva, 
the other Eva waiting up stairs where it was quite 
dark. There Henry introduced his former love to his 



ii6 AN EPITOME OF 

fiancee, as he was in an undertone asking pardon for 
substituting Ralph for himself, and she quickly says 
"I accept your apology. All is well that ends well.'* 
Then he turns and introduces his intended to Ralph. 
All this time it is almost impossible for the two Evas 
to keep from laughing, but instead, they pretend to 
be amused at the likeness of both gentlemen and 
themselves. Ralph is dumfounded. It makes him 
think he is dreaming. He can hardly know or under- 
stand how this can be. He thinks he has met both 
of these ladies somewhere, but knows not where, 
though he says nothing. 

The wedding march begins, the bell rings for them 
to descend the stairs to the altar, the rector is ready, 
the church is well filled. They march slowly up the 
isle keeping time to the wedding march. It is very 
much lighter in the church than it was up stairs. 
Henry and Eva No. i (in Henry's mind supposed 
to be Eva No. 2) walks up the isle together ahead, 
with Ralph and the other Eva just behind. They 
reach the altar, they take their positions four abreast 
under beautiful floral decorations of great variety. 
The rector proceeds to marry them. ''Henry Wake- 
field, do you take Eva Page to be your lawful wife," 
"Ralph Cummings do you take Eva Page to be your 
lawful wife, both of you to love, honor and obey" — 
at this moment Ralph notices the birthmark that he 



FOUR DECEIVERS 117 

at one time had seen on the shoulder of Henry's Eva, 
and he knew something was wrong as he looked 
down on his Eva, they both wearing low-necked 
dresses on this occasion. He became nervous, he 
could not see the birthmark on the Eva that he was 
about to marry. The rector was waiting for the 
accustomed "yes" from both gentlemen, but they 
made no answer. The Evas were becoming nervous. 
They had seen that Ralph had discovered something, 
but they had never thought of the birthmark. Ralph 
tried to get Henry's eye, his face was becoming 
flushed. Eva No. i was so anxious for she wanted it 
over, as she did love Henry so and was afraid that 
if he discovered her in this he would never say that 
little word that would bind their hearts together for- 
ever. The guests were almost rising in their seats 
wondering what was the matter. Henry catches 
Ralph's eye as he glances down at the shoulder with 
the birthmark. His eye follows Ralph's and looks 
at the birthmark which he had not seen since that 
evening months before at the social gathering in the 
country, he then looks her in the face, raising her 
hand. Ralph is doing the same to his Eva, looking 
her over as you would a horse before purchasing. 
They both rub their eyes. Tears begin to trickle 
down Eva No. I's cheeks. She fears the secret is 
out. As the rector asks the second time for the word 



ii8 AN EPITOME 

*'Yes/' Henry speaks up, "Just wait a minute, I want 
to see if their are any more birthmarks here," as he 
looks at Ralph's Eva, but does not see any birthmark 
as there is none to see. He walks back to his former 
place, rubs his eyes again, as he turns with a mis- 
chievous look and says to his bride to be, "Who are 
you?" Then Ralph speaks up and says to his bride 
to be, "Yes, who are you ?" "Aren't you girls mixed, 
or are we," Henry says. Ralph meditates for a mo- 
ment and sees something has got to be done. The 
audience and the rector are by this time tired of 
waiting in this agonizing suspense, when the rector 
asks for the word "Yes" for the third time. Ralph 
answers, "Yes, I do," and tells Henry to say "Yes," 
the only difference in them anyway is that little birth- 
mark. Then the two Evas confess what they have 
done. Henry takes Eva, his birthmark wife, into his 
arms and says in loud dramatic tones, "Yes, yes, yes, 
God bless you. I will take you, birthmark and all. 
I love you," as the rector proceeds and marries the 
two couples. 



POEMS 



Our Needs 

Love, Earth's greatest power, 

Heat our greatest need, 
Happiness, our richest dower, 

Truth, be our only greed. 
Home sounds sweet to many, 

Mother sweeter still; 
But Heaven, is there any — 

But loves and loves at will. 

Noble Deeds 

There comes a time in every life. 

An hour in every while, 
And through our cares and greatest strife 

A moment we may smile. 
No battle yet was ever won, 

Without the crimson gore, 
Nor deeds of valor yet was done 

Without beside it bore. 
To he who fought and fought so well, 

For honor, home and name. 
If he should fall, a hero fell 

Immortalized in fame. 



122 POEMS 

A life — a Noble life— is one 

That man and Gkxl adore, 
By noble deeds if you succumb 

You have saved a thousand more. 

The Past 

Into the field of romance, 

Down by the brooks of tears, 
I sit mid the v^rithered flowers 

As the spectre of my past appears, 
As I sit for an hour in the gloaming, 

And live in tl]e Eden that's past, 
*Neath the mantle of sorrow there is solace, 

Tho only in dreams can it last. 
I linger a moment in the valley — 

Of Death — of all love that's untrue, 
I hear the sweet words that reecho, 

"My love it is only of you." 
Love's melody with years may be dying, 

Tho low and sweet is the tone, 
As the swan when its soul is departing, 

It gurgles its most musical groan. 

The Profligate Son 

The profligate, the prodigal. 
The desecrated infidel, 



POEMS 123 

The child that does the mother wrong, 
The boy that loves both wine and song, 
Her to poverty has often led; 
Has even gambled with her bread; 
Has even pawned her bed away. 
And left her but the floor to lay- 
To lay in sickness, but still to pray 
For he that is from her away, 
For all his iniquities and all his sins, 
She forgives and takes him back again. 

Life Not All in Vain 

Life's not all in vain, 

God gives the right to think of better days, 
What is dark to us, to thee is plain 

God has his ways. 

Death Must Come 

Time will fly. 

Death must come 
To you and I, 

To every one. 
Our sickness — last 

There is no cure. 
It's never passed 

A one, 'Tis sure. 



124 POEMS 

Earth's Necropolis 

In years to come, the earth will be, 

There is no other room, 
Except repose at death in thee, 

The Earth a fleeting tomb. 
In time to come, at death's repose, 

The slab that marked the lay; 
The bricks that our cold form enclose 

Will both be mortal clay; 
The very dust, from where doth grow 

The grain to feed thy kind. 
Sprouts from the hand that once did sow 

But now to all is blind. 
When one is laid six feet below. 

And from the living tore 
The clay that covers us we know 

Is only many more. 
The time will come, in years it must. 

When we're not only fed 
By life from this once mortal dust, 

But supported by the dead. 

Age 

Life's vain delusions have gone by. 

Its idle hopes are o'er, 
Yet age remembers with a sigh. 

The days that are no more. 



POEMS 1:25 

The Ax 

Bound by the desert and the sea, 

An Indian city stood — 
Each building just a simple tree, 

No brick, or stone, just wood. 

One roof for all, which was the sky; 

One floor that did prevail. 
As bed on which the living lie. 

The streets a narrow trail. 

Where is this city, God had wrought. 
Has it gone by steady hacks; 

From woodman's hands, whose ruin sought 
With the initial tool — the ax. 

The pioneers in days gone by, 

To them, we owe a bow, 
For they have cleared, for you and I, 

With the Ax that we may plow. 

My Home of Youthful Days 
I pass by the homestead now. 

But only pass indeed 
Unconscious of my reverent bow, 

As onward I proceed. 

r; 

My eyes are on the old brick home, 
The orchard, yard and well, 



126 POEMS 

You sheltered and fed flesh and bone, 
No verse one's love can tell. 

Each tree, each shrub, each foot of earth, 
I reverence each stick and stone. 

Though a thousand more can ne'er be worth 
Or seem to me like home. 

Within the hall I imagine still. 

With hair so wavy gray. 
My mother sits, but "Oh ! poor Will," 

I yet can hear her say. 

Beneath her bated breath this one. 

Since he was taken away, 
She loved the home, but Will, her son. 

Is her long litany. 

' Of all the assets for our mirth, 

The one 'till death that strays. 
This one so paramount in worth 
Is home of youthful days. 

Death is King 

Death is King, it governs human tide, 

'Tis King of birth yet closely allied. 

From death the germ of life may sprout and grow, 

It starts from death just trace the embryo. 

It is a plant at first from there we start, 



POEMS 127 

On which we're fed the glands secrete, in part, 

A nucleus, once plant, now mortal seed 

From this by will to mortal form may read 

So far so good, but only flesh has spoke, 

But when and where and how has life awoke. 

The fetus now takes on the ego life, 

Nee Science yet may analyze when rife. 

We then may know this element is one. 

That comes from out the great Oblivion, 

By birth and death we come from where we go, 

By this same road we travel to and fro. 

Erstwhile on earth there were no living thing, 

The first on earth was death, so death it must be king. 

A Celestial Trial 

If Pythagorian philosophy be true, 
And transmigrating souls go on and through, 
To another sphere where Beelzebub may be, 
I dream I see a Heavenly tragedy, 
Constantine, the Great, rules over all. 
The Laberan is sceptre and its pall 
No mutiny — but submissive to its wave. 
As here on earth to all but that were brave. 
Court has convened, Herod Antipas, is tried ; 
John, the Baptist, is the Judge and by his side 
Is Christ, his chaplain and forensic guide; 
Joseph acts as barrister to the King, 



128 POEMS 

St. Peter before them twelve great jurors bring, 

Salome lasciviously dances o'er 

To take the stand as many years before. 

She danced to please the malignant heart that led. 

To gratify whatever want, she plead 

For John, the Baptist's, life, they were allied 

For that great crime, these two were being tried. 

No abnegation at this tribunal now; 

They make their abjurations and their vow. 

At this celestial Sanhedrim so just, 

Where spilling blood is not paramount of lust, 

Found guilty of that ignominious crime. 

Is the sentence "Death" or is it "penal time." 

From mosaic law is sentence now impelled. 

Or commentaried statutes later welled. 

To those the zelots clung so long an age. 

Before the Christ, the Jurist and the Sage. 

Sentence now imposed. It reads like love; 

It comes from John as tender as a dove. 

Arise, take foot, and go thy way. 

Thy sins that burden— be penitent and pray, 

Several spheres yet await thy coming in, 

Before thou art exempt from this and other sin. 

On Leaving Home. 

Berlin, how can I leave thee in scorn, 
Since you my body reared, 



POEMS 129 

Although I leave thee forlorn, 

My eyes are full of tears. 
To leave the place where I was born; 

My mother senile in years. 
While I depart with just my form, 

I will leave to you my tears. 

While Looking at Raphael's Madonna 
Peace on her brow 

The Christian world extole, 
Christ in her arms, 

Heaven in her soul. 
Both bliss on earth and heaven, 

In you the child God sired. 

The Hope to multitudes have given 

And all the world inspired. 

i 
The Earth's Greatness 

Who made the sea? 
The bounding sea, 
There is no power that equals thee. 

Who made the levees to there confine? 
The mountain waves of ocean brine, 
Throughout the bordered land entwine. 

Who made the monsters there within? 
No equal to the whale has been, 
Of the ocean great they are a kin. 



I30 POEMS 

Who makes the tide so regular rise? 
Is it the planets in the skies. 
If so, the name of God applies. 

To things above the power of man, 
Superhuman make and plan, 
And often ruled as thou command. 

As great as the Ocean then may be, 
Rule the despot not the despot thee, 
God made and rules both man and sea. 

The Benediction 

O, children here within they ken. 

Whilst here we live. 

Whilst here we live. 

Appease the latent power of men, 

Whilst here we live. 

Whilst here we live. 

Pray unanimous for all who sin, 

The Jew, the Gentile, kith or kin. 

The peer, the peasant, what matter when? 

You only pray for souls of men. 

Whilst here we live, Whilst here we live. 

The pensive prayer, 
The contrite heart. 
Whilst here we live. 



POEMS 131 

Whilst here we Hve. 
It has its subtle weight in part, 
On future penitence we all forbear, 
Whilst here we live. 

Unite our creeds as one be given 

Whilst here we live, 

Make here for those from us deriven. 

A birth to them what we hope of heaven, 

Whilst here we live. 

Whilst here we live. 

Man — How Small, How Weak 

Feeble man of mind tonight, 

The chaos of the day. 
View the many satellites. 

Of constellation ray. 
Oblivious viscera bow bound 

Of which earth is a bit 
The prerogative right of space around 

Of space so infinite. 

The light from Mars to us 

And teaches us that towers 
By virtue of our crystal lens. 

There's other worlds than ours 
Ostentatious mortals weak 

God may our future plan. 



132 POEMS 

Greater worlds and beings seek, 
With dominion over man. 

Proud man why feel above thy kind 

The submissive and the meek 
Are oft endowed with greater mind, 

Though physically are weak 
Are we judged by brutal strength, 

Or egotistic ear. 
Or what we might have been at length 

Or what we really are. 

Ofttimes riches vanish far. 

The sweetest faces fade, 
The brightest gems often are 

From roughest mineral made. 
Subordinate man — look far away, 

At entities more unique, 
Acknowledge truth, confess and say, 

Man — How small, How weak. 

Conquest of Infinite Love 
'Tis better to live on the desert bleak, 

With the environment of love about. 
Or the remotest darkness seek 

Than to brighter climes without. 

Erstwhile conquest fought by men. 
Tho' not a musket fight, 



POEMS 133 

The balls the bayonets then, 
We saints to proselyte. 

The prayer the chief, and not the rod, 

Love his strategy has given. 
His sword the light of his father's God 

His battle-field was Heaven. 

The powder used was incense then. 

To benison all his goal; 
His citadel was but mortal men. 

The temple of the soul. 

The word of God the scepter worth 
Divine equity from the altar rings 

Throughout all nations of the earth, 
Inspired by Christ, the King of Kings. 

Love the potent factor gave, 

Recreant to this enthrall; 
He sought their lives, but to only save, 

Tho died Himself for all. 

Cedar Point 

Days auspicious coming fast 
Old and young are thinking. 

Hearing sonnets of the past. 
Propitious pleasures drinking. 



134 POEMS 

Having dreams that do amount, 
Tho not of nightly sleeping, 

In day dreams can see the Point 
Across the bay peeping. 

Libation, quaff and music art, 
Where dancing reigns serenely. 

If love has never pierced thy heart, 
The point will help so keenly. 

The Coney of the middle west, 
The bathing suits so stunning. 

Ladies gowned for bathing dressed, 
Tho only are they sunning. 

But oh the time that we may loit. 
Amid this solace feeder. 

If there is bliss 'tis on this Point, 
On sands beneath its Cedar. 

Pleasure 
A fountain as the shrine of pleasure, 

With tenacious zeal we seek. 
Nor can we see or feel yet treasure. 

This great goal so strong, yet weak. 
Life's tenor from this fountain spraying, 

Stimulating in its wake, 
To happiness all are suing, praying. 

Which honest toiling seems to make. 



POEMS 135 

In the cleric world confining, 

In the factory's deafening roar, 
Beneath the sod in peril mining, 

Into wartime's nautic lore. 
Life in all its phases seeking. 

Seeking, working, gazing blind. 
In the future unaccompanying. 

For relief of heart and mind. 

Ameliorate thy ways for pleasure. 

Propound thy might in common all. 
This fountain force is our own pressure, 

To cause a better volume's fall. 
You alone by your own labor. 

You can reap a blissful way. 
For thyself and for thy neighbor 

To thy fount- felicity. 

Each Plays Its Part 

There's not a stick or stone on earth, 

Or fish within the sea. 
But plays its equal part in worth. 

Or there it would not be. 

Some men of egregious stamp, 

More of middle lay, 
Even the desecrated weary tramp, 

Have their parts to play. 



136 POEMS 

From the beginning of this earthly stage, 

When first the curtain rose, 
It changes Httle by its age. 

Or will it till the close. 

So man and mammal of this plain 

And planets of the sky, 
We know you were not made in vain. 

If not the reason why. 

By love the wicked man o'er power, 

Such is the Christian plan; 
The hand that made the sweetest flower 

Made the wicked man. 

'Tis All With Thee 

Yes the alpha omega the first and the last, 

The beginning, the end, the future and past, 

'Tis all in the power of Him not in we 

To protect or destroy with land, air or sea, 

It seems at Thy will the elements obey 

You destroy by earthquake, by fire burn away. 

Possessions of man, slow built by their work, 

Are wrecked by earth's tremors and leveled to earth. 

We talk on the air planets studiously see, 

Or sail crost the ocean like doves we can flee, 

And circle the earth by electricity's use. 

Tho man may be dead his voice can reproduce. 



POEMS 137 

We can print and publish and build to the sky, 

Or descend to the depths and in helmet keep dry, 

We are great, we seem great to ourselves but until 

Disaster is on us who bridles at will 

Can lead us or drive us or destroy if thou choose, 

All at his mercy our lives in His noose. 

Turn back to tradition, read on its page, 

'Tis noon as it was from the beginning of age 

If experience be teacher, well may we know, 

In peril tho none of us skeptically grow. 

We know not the moment on the ground that we trod, 

It will crumble and consume us in the bosom of God, 

If taken away by the power we are blessed. 

We must welcome disaster 'tis God who knows best. 

Life Philosophical 

The heavy laden weary soul of mortal here below. 

Can bring thyself a blissful hour, by relieving an- 
other woe; 

Look into space, penetrate therein. 

Think what we still may be, and what we may have 
been. 

The flower grows sweeter from its youth. 

From seed to fruit 'tis everlasting truth; 

Value life while here for this is certain 

We know not of the worlds beyond death's gloomy 
curtain. 



138 POEMS 

Live on, live on, why take life at will, 

All have a part to play, a place to fill. 

The weak, the strong, the good, the bad, have power, 

The chaff protects the grain, the bran, the flour, 

Our neighbor is often favored many, many ways. 

Endowed at youth with great propensities 

Tho other ways have cared that would not tempt. 

Exchange of troubles from which none are exempt ; 

If care and troubles seem your lasting fate, 

Embellish them with hope, just live and wait. 

None are sure of heaven from peasant on to Pope, 

To know is to die, we can only pray and hope. 

If we were sure of worlds more sweet than ours. 

Composed of love of harmony and flowers, 

All would want to go the world might cease to be. 

The land as well might burn and evaporate the sea. 

The laws that are best, God willed it so. 

If bliss is not in store it is best we do not know, 

Make the best of life while here, why borrow, beg 

or steal, 
From fabled worlds we know not of, when ours we 

Know is real. 

Ordination 

Whatever it has been, and ever it will be 

The metamorphic elements to man and back to thee; 

Man grows up to die, night follows day, 



POEMS 139 

Evolution alters form, tho nothing wastes away, 

Elements requisite to mankind, 

The clay, the water and the wind, 

Were kin to all — and all to one will be, 

We only decompose to dust to free the form 

That's old and worn and weak within. 

We crumble in the grave — the womb of life again 

A birth ordained — foreordained at birth to die, 

It was to be some cause was fixed, some reason why. 

Fair is fated not to shape its end, 

The path of life's ascent the same to death does blend. 

The scales equality must balance near, 

Or day and night would reign in one everlasting year. 

The moment the cause that caused our being array, 

A cause has also caused this being to take away. 

Christmas Eve* 
Tonight, with all the incense sweeter, 

I think I hear a mother's voice, 
Tonight in prayer our hearts may feel her 

Tonight the Christian would rejoice; 
Tonight our senses clear brighter. 

Our eyes but angel visions see, 
Just by thy touch our burden's lighter. 

Tonight our taste is but of thee, 

*In this poem, I assume there are seven senses. I take it 
upon myself to add the sense of thought and the sense of speech. 



140 POEMS 

Tonight commune by our senses seven , 

Tomorrow feasting will afford 
A hallowed meal for us and heaven, 

On the birthday of our Lord. 

Sisters Nineveh* 

Twin Sisters Nineveh with beauty so rare, 

Twin Sisters Nineveh with glory and pov/er, 
Chaldeans and Medes in Power compare 

Their gift from their God, a namesake, a dower 
They have been crowned with the glory 

Not in war, but of name 
There the "Ladies of Kingdoms" the historical story 

Nineveh, Nineveh, their title of fame. 

*The Sisters Nineveh were really the founders of the City of 
Nineveh or later called Babylon on the Euphrates River, virhich 
runs into the Persian Gulf. 

The reader of this poem will see that there is no metre and 
also the diction is rather strange for a poem, though I feel 
closer allied to this, than to any other lines I have ever written, 
on account of the suffering I underwent to reach the City of 
Babylon. I traveled for 29 days on a dromedary's back with a 
Turk and an Armenian across the Syrian desert, taking the 
southern route, which makes the trip much more hazardous. 
After having reached this desolate place, while I was resting at 
the base of the hanging Gardens, admiring the ruins, I com- 
posed this poem. I consider this moment of my life, the most 
inspiring, as far as the archeological scenes of this earth are 
concerned in my life. 



POEMS 141 

These Babylonian sisters a city provoked, 

"Walled Place" Babylon Nineveh no more 
In dust, "Kouyunjik" Tepe is yoked 

By the hand of Jehovah who can destroy and re- 
store 
The fire Hades started and afterwards stoked 

By the power of Almighty and good men deplore 
Chaldeans and Medes their prophecy revoked 

Though the prophecy was true, Nineveh is no more. 

Except in the dust, by strangers surveyed 

The tomb "Tomb" of silence, the city outlives 
The Gardens ahanging, Babylonians made 

Still mantle the banks of the Euphrates River 
All the minds to conceive, all the hands to construct 

All the glory and fame, all their pomp and their 
power 
Ail the Kings that have reigned on the Ninevehen 
dower 

All the years that it lived, it died in an hour. 

Fragments 

"Death sprouts the germ of honor. 

The absence of a composer revives his lines." 

"Man with potent mind to man submissive. 

Never is recreant to the entreties of woman woman 



142 POEMS 

"Barkis is Willing" 
Barkis, Barkis, are you willing, 

I've a cottage but alone, 
You I want, if you are willing, 

To complete my little home. 
You've inspired me to be saving 

Tho a cottage 'twill be thine, 
'Tis for you, I have been craving, 

Barkis, Barkis, will you be mine? 

I would like a palace for you. 

With a garden all about; 
But a cottage is sweeter with you 

Than a palace is without. 
Barkis, say that you are willing. 

Say you'll be my little wife. 
All I want is for you filling, 

Cottage home, my heart, my life. 

Reverence 
We speak, yet utter not a v/ord, 

Complaisantly we kneeled, we nod, 
Each jest is seen, each thought is heard, 

Of ours in prayer by God, 
We hail the Virgin Queen as on we plead, 

To saints who never turn to dross. 
We seek asylum by prayer on every bead, 

Then kiss the cross. 



POEMS 143 

Then stoop and let your pleadings rise, 

With God's sweet incense in the air, 
'Tis only such who never dies, 

Who live in prayer. 
Solace is only found in Thee, 

A boon that will condole. 
Ask in prayer anointed be, 

The language of the soul. 

This Bleak, Sad Earth 

My heart is weary of this bleak, sad earth; 

It affords no pleasure, no love or mirth. 

If death should call the roll would I shrink or sigh, 

Or would I thus respond, and say "Aye-Aye." 

The old whose step with measured stroke and groan 
He takes his daily walk up street or lane. 
Life still is sweet, there is no hateful moan. 
The world he loves for all of senile pain. 

The child whose world is all within his reach. 
He thinks not of the labyrinth before 
That he must pass, for this alone should teach 
That mirth is never found alone in lore. 

The Ocean's Necropolis 

The entrancing anthem from the mighty wave 
You seem by this to human soul decoy 



144 POEMS 

Upon its breast for solace yet the grave 
Seems ever open welcome to destroy. 

The tide will ebb and flow, the storms will come and 
go, 

The ships will plow its fluted breast, 
And well we know 'twill never show 

The souls that are at rest. 

No vampire's meal or student's steal 

In earth's terrestrial blue. 
Where sod should seal if it were real, 

'Tis but the briny dew. 

In the ocean's swell it sounds its knell 

Of buried dead in peace. 
These words, "'Twill tell— 'Tis well— 'Tis well," 

My requiem shall never cease. 

We Make Our God 

'Tis what you do the better that you are, 
Each little mite of good is God in he, 

The atomic good we do from star to star 
Will make a greater God for you and me. 

Godfrey's Christian Crusade 

With greater fervor fought he men, 
With greater valor won, 



POEMS 145 

When Godfrey took Jerusalem 
Than Titus could ever done. 

Titus fought for Rome and fame 

And the spoils that gold accord, 
But Godfrey fought for but the name 

And cradle of our Lord. 

The Saracens were his only thought, 

The Holy Land his prey, 
By desecrating they had wrought 

A standard to obey. 

He and his army proffered all 

To God for God and Christian see 

The cross their standard, on from Gaul 
They march, this Legion co-heirs of thee. 

Through many storm unsheltered night 
With sick and hunger in their camp, 

Undaunted still inspired by right. 
They onward to Selima tramp. 

As on they wend their weary way, 

They view the sacred Olivet, 
And as they kneel to pray 

They see the Islam minaret. 

These Koran sentinels only wake 
There zealous passions too 



146 POEMS 

A more formidable engine make 
And Christian war pursue. 

Now conquest reigned in zealous rage, 

Greek fire in torrents fell, 
The falchions chafed as to presage 

The Mussulman to hell. 

But so repulsed by wall and men 

They falter in distress, 
An apparition in their ken 

Tell them to onward press. 

On Calvary waves in coat of mail 

Fight on with all thy lust 
With heroic effort they now assail 

And reduce the wall to dust. 

Much blood was shed neath Omar's Dome, 

Compassion had he none. 
From Pagan to a Christly zone 

This Christian Crusade won. 

A Metamorphosis now took place 

From panoply of war 
They placed phylactery to grace 

Thy tomb and this explore. 

Tranquility was now at hand 
To Godfrey still they cling. 



POEMS 147 

Unanimously for him they stand 
And pronounce him future King. 

But Godfrey now declines. He said 
The Christ he loves he thus forlorns 

No crown of gold place on my head 
Where Christ the King must wear the 

thorns. 

A Mother's Voice 
The panegyric theme with gesture wand, 
The General's voice, his order, his command. 
The eulogizing memoir o'er the dead. 
Not only lips that spoke but what they said, 
This rhetorician Lincoln o'er the brave. 
Encomiums at battle-field or grave; 
At Gettysburg, what voice could ever sound. 
As great, as good, and heard the world around, 
The prima donna's thrill— her vocal throat 
Expelling songs, the food of soul is note. 
Music never shun, tho ever sought, 
The villain's heart, its tender strains has wrought; 
To tender harmonizing mood will quaint 
A brute thus changed from sinner into saint. 
The birds that charm by song in boughs above, 
No other mammals please the poet's lyre. 
Translate thy warble into verse inspire, 



148 POEMS 

The meaning of thy love to mate the way, 

Birds the bards of heaven, we may say ; 

They sing their love, these poets of the air 

For song is love on earth and everywhere, 

In past, I've heard a voice, more sweet, more dear 

To me my mother's lullaby I still can hear. 

She rocked the cradle, keeping time with song. 

I hear it still, God help me hear it long 

Forensic or ecclesiastic vow. 

No rhetoricians master speech allow, 

Nor did Demosthenes or Cicero, 

Let from their lingual organs ever flow, 

A voice as tender — or a Homer write, 

Or Plato philosophically a night, 

E'er teach, or preach or write, or sing, or other 

More pleasing sweeter — than a loving mother. 

The Birds 
Dear birds, the tree is evergreen. 

The sky is ever clear. 
You have no sorrow in your song, 

No cold days in your year. 

If I could fly with you. 

We'd make with our small wing. 

Our visit to the ocean blue, 
And come back in the spring. 



POEMS 149 

Could I But Dream 
Could I live as I was dreaming, 
And the world had all the seeming 
In this hour of care redreaming, 
Let me dream. 

I was in a land of leisure ; 
All our trials we've changed to pleasure 
And the soul we mostly treasure 
Were in dreams. 

None corrupt or none in sorrow, 
For thy placidness no horror 
In my dream. 

O my wakening, from my dreaming, 
And the sun through window beaming, 
O, my dream. 

'Twas all over, I must get up, 
Don my daily garb and make-up. 
And my same old cares must take up 
'Twas a dream. 

Are not sweet dreams that have no doing, 
In that real, real morning. 
Like the dreams the dead are dreaming, 
Such let me dream. 



150 POEMS 

Abnormal Dreams 

Abnormal dreams of wealth and glory, 

Of seraphic lands and fabled food; 
Away from all that's grim and gory, 

In a momenf s dreaming mood. 
Utopia Island seemed surround me, 

Eldoradian riches mine. 
Embroglio was within me 

With Venus drinking nepenthe wine, 
A molted golden lake a moving, 

I, the monarch, sitting there. 
Watching — smiling nympths their bathing, 

Gold drops dripping from their hair. 
I, the choice I had of choosing 

As King David did of old. 
All or any here a bathing, 

In this lake of molted Gold. 

The Castle 

The Gothic castle, so arrogant, so proudly stands 
Embellished on all sides by stately lands; 
Its lofty walls, its facade Tunic laid. 
With mosaic floors and mammoth colonade; 
*Tis built to shelter or to shun at will 
Within protect or outward it may kill. 
Its aspect lends a beauty to all that view, 
But only offers homage to the few. 



POEMS 151 

Dispensing laws the part of state to play 
By plebeian hands was built tho' must obey. 
The walls within the Epicurus confines, 
Drinking rounds to Bacchus — god of wines, 
Just provoked by court's imperial grace, 
Is wrought by idle pleasures of the place. 
Of all the sensuous pleasure thou may sup 
And the cloak of supreme justice covers up; 
Nor are we judged by where our sins are sown, 
In castle shield or by cabin known, 
Nor can we screen the vision of thine eye. 
For all are judged thus equal by and by. 

Fragment 

The heavy laden, weary soul of mortal here below, 
Can bring thyself a blissful hour by relieving other's 
woe. 

To Mother 

You can see the moistened tear 

Steal boldly from my eye; 
Have you not marked the flush of fear 

Or caught the murmured sigh? 
Nor can you think my love is chill, 

Tis of you alone. 
And can you think me doubtless still, 

A heart so much your own. 



152 POEMS 

To you my only affection move, 

Away tho warm and true. 
My life has been a task of love, 

One long, long thought of you. 
If all your tender faith be o'er 

On this you may rely. 
Alas ! I know but one proof more 

I'll bless you till I die. 

Ode to The Twentieth Century 

This morning, when the dawn was cleared, 

The mellow streaks of light we view, 
It was the same old sun that neared 

To pass the old, and commence the new. 
Way in the eastern seas this morn, 

As many score years before, 
You have rose and set until you've born 

Another century more. 

Dear boon to man, the friend of earth, 

When in the western seas you sink, 
We ne'er can estimate your worth, 

O God of Light we praise and think. 
In a century past you've born the men 

That's made this age, the electric age. 
Look back in ancient times and then. 

And then, there was none of such sage. 



POEMS 153 

Tho this night we'll watch and pray, 

That the coming century will be as great 
As the seconds usher in the day, 

We can only welcome thee and wait. 
But the years that's coming in our way 

We can only welcome thee, O well. 
But the years that's dying with this day, 

We can only say — farewell, farewell. 

Toys 
Those toys I see. 
Where may the owner be. 
Whose little fingers built. 
Castles to fall again. 
A flower thou was to be 
A bud tho all to me 

Must wilt. 
Must die and go 
Where — I do not know 
Since from my child bereft 
My youthful boon. 
The one these toys mused 
There all — tho never used 

That's left. 

Let Minutes be Hours 
Let minutes be hours. 
Let hours be years, 



154 POEMS 

In summer and flowers, 

In sorrow and tears, 
For one is the scale 

For others to weigh, 
We must have a decanter, 

To appreciate May. 

Think Not of The Past 

Think not of the past, 'tis too late we must borrow; 

Our felicitous moments unprovidently entombed. 
'Tis the hope of the solace that may come with the 
morrow 
That will brighten our present, by our future il- 
lumed. 

The Clock 

Ticking, ticking, onward beating. 

Ticking time away. 
Striking hours as they're fleeting. 

This is all you say. 
How nonchalant, tho unremitting. 

The pendulum into measured sway, 
Lever at every tick admitting. 

Also ticking lives away. 

Ticking, ticking, still a ticking, 
Time your only food. 



POEMS 155 

Seems your work is never ceasing 

The a head you oft intrude. 
Judge your future by tradition 

All of histories on your face, 
Explaining time's your only missive, 

Wisdom for the human race. 

Ticking, ticking, striking, pointing 

With their hands to mortals show, 
More than any monarch ruling, 

As they to their work and fro 
Ticking from the cradle ticking, 

Babes to man, to manhood brave, 
To take our places those your ticking 

While ours your ticking to the grave. 

To Mother 

fondly love and as these lines appear 

The past, the present, and all time to come 

1 mark remembrance to you, I love so dear. 
Accept these thoughts from your unworthy son. 

In after days revere these lines sincere, 

One friendly thought I ask for you to sound. 

I'll answer tho in burning climes I hear. 
Or lonely lie beneath earth's lily mound. 

And if my theme past wail or woe reminds. 
Excuse the worst, one sigh, I ask no more. 



156 POEMS 

ril love you still in heaven or other climes 
Or beneath the earth or briny ocean's roar. 

The Cause I'll Leave Untold 

God, thy ever living host above, 
Relieve my bleeding heart. 

'Twas you that caused this soul to love, 

The one you caused to part. 
Canst Thou not mend this rupture, God, 

And cease thy bleeding care. 
Place my form beneath the sod. 

And spirit v^ith you there. 

Those few sweet hours are with me now, 
The brightest days that shone 

To love, but then such was my vow, 
O blissful care, O vanished care, 

This darkened life you've made. 
While making all for her so far, 

You've made my pleasures fade. 

1 look back at the saddest hour. 
When love comes to its close. 

As the sun went down that blissful flower 
Had changed its sweet repose. 

She drew close to me in whispering voice, 
And said our love must end. 



POEMS 157 

O she, who was my love, my choice, 
Could only be a friend. 

Those few words their sharpened blades, 

Have rend this heart in twain. 
As time goes on, I deeper wade 

Into love's growing main. 
And this sad life must linger on, 

With heart that's frozen cold. 
The boon of life has from me gone, 

The cause I'll leave untold. 

Von Kenell* 
I had a friend, he is no more. 

Von Kenell was his name ; 
He dearly loved his paramour, 

'Tis her the world must blame. 
He sought the hand he loved so well. 

Though wooing was in vain, 
What poet's lines can ever tell 

His sorrow and his pain. 

This friend of mine of tender thought, 

With mental passions sweet. 
He strove for love, but only wrought 

A broken heart's defeat. 

*Von Kenell was a very dear friend of mine, who shot himself 
for a young lady, who pretended to love him, but deceived 
him at last. 



158 POEMS 

Copious was her love at first, 
Though fickle as could be; 

Now he is where men never thirst, 
The profligate is she. 

This friend of mine almost sublime, 

Since love she would not give, 
He sought another sphere or clime 

On earth he could not live. 
I know in Heaven Von Kenell — friend, 

There is a lover's goal 
Where souls like hers can never tend. 

Though here we'll find your soul. 

j All is Divine 

Solace oft from sadness born 
Weeds will grow amid the corn, 
A standard must exist for worth 
The scale of sadness weighs our mirth. 
Bliss is coming, why forlorn. 
If no night there'd be no morn. 

Who would care to live on earth 
If no death to follow birth, 
Just worship selves and when we trod 
No thought of brighter worlds or God, 
Just thought and deed of me and mine, 
Nor bliss what is of thee and thine. 



POEMS 159 

The sunny day the stars that shine, 
The showers that fall that we may dine 
And live from heaven as well as home, 
Nor should we think of self alone. 

Three Score Years of Bliss 

When three score years of placid life 

Are imputed to a pair, 
They now are more than man and wife, 

They now resemblance bear. 

The pain, the sorrow, and the strife, 

In sixty years of care, 
Has caused these boons of married life 

To burdens equally bear. 

The inflicted wound so painful sore. 

Each other's moans they hear. 
The one unhurt has always bore 

The suffering most severe. 

Music 
Music soothes the ruffled passion, 

Music rests the wearied mind, 
It is all that's not a fashion 

To its strains the eyes are blind. 

The optics judge the earthly beauty. 
Form and color movements — all. 



i6o POEMS 

Tones are not within their beauty, 
They upon the ears must fall. 

Music strains ascend to heaven, 

To join all that's spiritual. 
The flowers incense here are given, 

Room among the volatile. 

Sweet aroma tone and spirit. 

Earth so coarse is not their sphere, 

It is loaned to inhale, to hear it. 
Its home is far away, yet near. 

Music has a subtle power 

Over good, bad, large and small ; 

They that music can't devour, 
Are not spiritual at all. 

My World 
A simple urn 

Contains my world, 
Though back to ashes turn. 

Within its cavity 
Is sealed my zealous heart. 

Thank God, with this it is not all depravity. 
In the future may we meet, 

The past can never change, 
Our love was incomplete. 

Heaven may the rest arrange. 



POEMS i6i 

Why were we torn apart. 

The Omniscient God has given 
True love, on earth a start, 

To always be in heaven. 

Never Late 
In the days of our contending, 

The reflection of the past, 
Of a soul we were commending, 

Of a soul that was to last. 

Moments spent in thus revealing, 
Truth and law of thee for thine. 

Like the blind your way are feeling. 
To a heaven both yours and mine. 

Keep on teaching, keep on preaching. 

Sinners, it is never late, 
Confess and heaven's in your reaching, 

Peter's always at the gate. 

You Know The Rest 
Hark, hark, I hear the whole world's voice, 

From it I hear not pity, but a curse. 
If it were war, flood, fire, there is no choice, 

But no, it's neither, it's far worse. 

'Tis of a girl with beauty rare and sweet, 
Her heritage— she was by beauty blest, 



i62 POEMS 

Which aided partly to her doom to meet, 
You know the rest. 

It was a man, vile man — why speak, 

O, morbid hungry minds, why feed, why feast. 

Upon this soul ? Oh ! pity her, the weak, 
To do the least. 

She loved — this unsophisticated one, 

She staked her life, there is no better test, 

Upon a man, a man what might have done, 
You know the rest. 

A Waltz Song 
Waltz in the day time, waltz in the night. 
Keep step with the times with a jest of delight, 
Waltz off your care while dancing through life. 
Waltz with each other, husband and wife. 
Make merry while dancing on this earthly ball. 
Keep time with God's music, keep step with it all, 
Let dance be the heaven and earth be the hall 
So join in the mirth with foot and with tongue. 
Each day makes us older, so live while you're young. 

Chorus 
In gaily dancing forget every care, 
With maidens entrancing, their faces so fair. 
With forms that are graceful, vivacious and true, 
The world will seem brighter to me and to you. 



POEMS 163 

Come from thy sorrow, sit not in a stare, 

Alternate waltzing, it lightens our care. 

And makes all sorrow more easy to bear. 

Join in the chorus, sing while you dance. 

Awake from thy slumbers, come forth from thy trance, 

Each proffer your aid, give while you give. 

To happier moments and live while you live. 

Don't wait till your old for age to enthrall, 

Be joyful at youth, if you're going to at all. 

Death of a Child 

A light went out, 

'Twas freshly lit, 
A history short, 

So quickly writ. 

Why born — what for, 

A child so fair. 
Loved here — and more, 

Was wanted there. 

Perhaps there is 

In Heaven no birth. 
So are by death. 

Transferred from earth. 

Conceived on earth, 
God won't endure. 



l64 POEMS 

Conception there, 
Heaven is too pure. 

If not for deaths, 

Of children fair, 
How could there be, 

A Heaven there. 

'Tis hard, yes hard. 

To lay to rest, 
A child so loved, 

Yet God knows best. 

I Wonder 

If love were taken out of life. 
And hearts were crushed asunder. 

Would living here be worth the strife, 
I wonder, O! I wonder. 

If care and trouble were not known, 
No blizzards, storm or thunder, 

Would man both cease to pout and moan, 
I wonder, O! I wonder. 

If all were perfect on this sphere. 
And never made a blunder, 

Then would angels hover near, 
I wonder, O! I wonder. 



POEMS 165 

If dollars were as free as air, 

And jewels classed as plunder, 
Would trusts be then an earthly care, 

I wonder, O! I wonder. 



PLAYS 



TREVA 



Cast of Characters 

Treva Daughter of Leon de Veau 

Alexander von Kent Rural Neighbor, 

son of Jacob von Kent, the neighbor of Hon. Leon de Veau 
Jerome Lathrope 

. . An acquaintance of Alexander von Kent from London 

Bacell Butler of the De Veau family 

Amous Levingsworth 

Of Bristol, England, and a friend of Jerome 

Reverend McLaren 

The vicar is Amous Levingsworth. He disguises himself 

as a minister of the Gospel of Scotland. 

Caroline de Veau Mother of Treva 

Florence Aspenwall Treva's London lady friend 

Reverend Kempp Of London 

Henry de Veau Brother of Treva 

Aaron Thompson London Neighbor of Treva 

Eva Sister of Aaron Thompson 

Act I 

Garden of her father, Hon. Leon de Veau. 

Trevi and Alex von Kent enter together. Alex, 
how glad I am you called this afternoon, I do get 
so lonely these days, father is away so much, and 



170 PLAYS 

living out here in this rural district is so different 
than the city where so many call. And you know, 
Alex, you are so entertaining. Oh, Lady Treva, 
you flatter me. I would call oftener, it is not that I 
do not care to come, but of late Jerome Lathrope 
has been making such frequent visits here, and I 
can see from yonder window that he becomes so 
enthused while conversing with you. Ha Ha, Alex, 
he is of a very nervous temperament, which causes 
him to put his whole soul into his conversation, yet 
he is wholly unconscious of it. Well, Alex, to change 
the subject, will you not have some cool drink. Here 
comes Bacell now. 

Enter Bacell. 

Lady Treva to Bacell. Bring us some of the 
same. You know by this time Alex's choice. Ba- 
cell. Yes, Lady. 

Enter Jerome. Good afternoon, Lady Treva. Von 
Kent, I believe. 

Lady Treva. Yes, Von Kent is right. Jerome, 
sit down and have a cooling draught with us. (Je- 
rome sits by them.) 

Bacell enters with tray. 

Enter Levingsworth, unknowrf to the rest of the 
party. (Jerome arises and introduces his friend to 
the party.) 



PLAYS 171 

Jerome. I take great pleasure in presenting to 
you Mr. Levingsworth, my friend from Bristol. 

Treva. Delighted to meet you. 

Alex. Pleased, I assure you. (They all sit at 
this garden bench.) Enter Bacell. Bacell, I see, 
your party has somewhat increased. Will you not 
wait? 

Lady Treva (interrupting.) Yes, Bacell, you may 
bring some more of the same. (Then to Mr. Lev- 
ingsworth.) Where do you reside, Mr. Levings- 
worth ? 

Levingsworth. At Bristol, Lady Treva. 

Lady Treva. The reason I ask so abruptly, Mr. 
Levingsworth — Enter Bacell. Oh, here is Bacell. 
(He spreads the glasses before them.) 

Levingsworth. What was the remainder of the 
sentence you were relating as the butler appeared. 
(As they were about to offer a party toast.) 

Lady Treva. Oh, yes, Mr. Levingsworth. The 
name Levingsworth always reminds me of a Mr. 
P. A. Levingsworth who, a few years ago, though 
not from your city, this gentleman lived in Clifton. 
(Levingsworth looks worried, the glass shakes in his 
hand, and he becomes very nervous.) 

Alex. Lady Treva, you do not mean the Levings- 
worth who tried to blackmail your father. 

Levingsw^orth. Great God! (The glass drops 



172 PLAYS 

from his hand and they all rise from the table in 
astonishment. ) 

Curtain. 



Act II 

Mr. Levingsworth's bachelor apartments on St. 
Jacobs Wells Road, Bristol.* 

Enter Levingsv/orth and Jerome Lathrope. 
Lathrope. Well, friend Levingsworth, have you 
got over your nervous shock of yesterday P. M. yet? 

Levingsworth. No indeed, Jerome. It was all 
too plain to me, the picture was all too plain to me. 
Oh, the peregrinations of a young man. Oh, if I 
had not committed myself, I love her, Jerome, I 
love her. I have not seen her since she was a child 
until yesterday, and even then I did not know who 
she was until those fatal words from those innocent 

*The City of Clifton and Bristol join one another. This P. 
Amous Levingsworth was the identical Levingsworth who tried 
to ruin Mr. Leon de Veau, Lady Treva's father a few years 
ago. He was living at Qifton at that time, but since then had 
dropped the P. from his name and was living in Bristol. Yet, 
when he entered the garden unexpectedly that evening, he did 
not know that Mr. De Veau was living there or that Lady 
Treva had grown to such an age. He knew Mr. De Veau had 
a daughter, but she had grown out of his recollections. How- 
ever, when Alex spoke those few words he was sure who she 
was. — H. L. c. 



PLAYS 173 

lips were spoken, then I knew all. Yes, all. It was 
all too plain then. 

Jerome. Love her, love her, how can you love a 
woman and only know her a few moments? 

Levings WORTH. Love, my dear friend, in this case 
in an intuition with me. I have always loved her, 
I love her and always will love her when I glance 
into those love scintillating eyes. Yesterday they 
transformed me at once. They made me angry for 
her bright charms. Yes, angry ; I will have her yet. 
I will, I love her, her beauty will make me a lamb 
or a lion, her love for me in return will make me a 
villain or a saint. Oh, that I had not made those 
self-exposing demonstrations yesterday. She would 
never know and her father would never know, as I 
have so changed since then, and when I was in India 
they got the report that I died of fever. But this 
may defeat me now. But if it does I will rule or 
ruin. 

Jerome. Oh, no, no, no, you would not harm a 
sweet innocent girl like Lady Treva, would you? 
Calm yourself, you are excited, it is just an imagina- 
tion with you. You do not love her as much as you 
say, you do if you would honor her. Though if 
you do or do not, Amous, you have befriended me 
in ways I never can repay you, so here's my hand, 
brother; I will resort to most anything to help you 



174 PLAYS 

in any way I can, but they say that Alex Von Kent 
and Lady Treva are engaged to be married, so if that 
is true, Amous, you are a Httle late; however, I and 
Alexander are on good terms and I asked him by 
long distance telephone this morning if it were true 
that they were. 

Levings WORTH. And what answer. 

Jerome. Well, Amous, I am sorry to say, that 
my own heart bleeds as well as yours. I love her, 
too, and have for a long time; she is engaged to 
Alexander, and they are to be married soon, but it 
has enraged me as well as you. He scoffs at me and 
makes his brag that he has beat me, but I will down 
him yet. I will not let him know my vengeance for 
him, but will ruin his happiness and hers too. 

Levingsworth. Yes, and I will help you. We 
will drink on this. (They get the decanter and 
drink.) Here's to the fall of Alexander the Great. 

Jerome. Yes, but by w^hat means without incrim- 
inating ourselves. 

Levingsworth. I have it. You stay on the good 
side of Alexander, as you have said sugar will catch 
more flies than vinegar, and we will arrange a false 
marriage for them. 

Jerome. But the Church of England. 

Levingsworth. They are not Church of England 



PLAYS 175 

people. Lady Treva's father is an agnostic, he does 
not care for custom or creed. 

Jerome. True it is. I had not thought of that, 
but it is true. But the Hcense. 

Levingsworth. Let them get the Hcense, and 
you, Jerome, tell Alex that he must allow you to get 
the clergyman, a friend of yours from Edinburg, to 
marry him, and you can get some one to don the 
ecclesiastical garb and pronounce them man and wife* 
Then in a few days let him know by anonymous letter 
that the vicar was an impostor and fraud, and not an 
ordained preceptor of the word of God. I guess that 
will pour vengeance upon them. (As they hear the 
church organ and choir next door at prayer meeting, 
they sink in their chair in deep meditation, a contrite 
look of penitence on their faces as the curtain is go- 
ing down.) 

Curtain. 

Act III 

The rural home of the Leon de Veau family. 

Enter Father De Veau. (Sitting at his center 
table alone, waiting for the few moments to pass 
that he will be obliged to witness the nuptial loss of 
his daughter Treva, he soliloquizes.) Few, but few 
moments more, will Treva be mine. Yet why should 



176 PLAYS 

I lament, Alex is a good man. Though not of 
earthly position, he is endowed with erudition, which 
is better. 

Enter Caroline. Dear husband, why so pensive, 
why care you to meditate so assiduously and long. 
Dear, you are not sorry our Treva is going to be 
married to Alexander this evening, are you, husband? 

Leon de Veau. Oh, no, I am not sorry, but it 
is such a sudden change in our household, and I feel 
that Treva will not be altogether happy. 

Caroline. O you must not think that way; look 
for the best, seek and you shall find. Now brace up, 
husband. 

Enter Treva. 

Caroline. Here is Treva in her wedding trous- 
seau. You have never looked as sweetly in your life, 
Treva. (They both embrace her.) 

Enter Alexander. Good day, Madam. Good day, 
Senor. Good day, Senorita. 

Father. I am so glad we are going to have a 
quiet home wedding. 

Mother. Just our own, except Jerome and the 
Scotch Congregational minister. 

Treva. Father looks at his watch. 'Tis just 6 145, 
15 minutes. I wonder — O here is Jerome and the 
vicar now coming right in. 

Jerome. (At one side in a whisper.) How 



PLAYS 177 

stunning, are you sure you are not making a mis- 
take, Treva. I know you will regret your indiffer- 
ence toward me some day. 

Treva. Jerome, this is no time or place to dis- 
cuss such things, and I think a little late in the day. 
I love Alex and Alex alone, and God help me to 
always love him. 

McLaren, (the vicar.) Weddings always make 
me nervous, they are quite like funerals. (McLaren 
is Levingsworth disguised with the vicar's dress. He 
is very nervous and so afraid they will detect him.) 
Is not the time arrived. (He tries to change his 
voice and make it ridiculously loud and unbecoming 
a minister. At this moment Alexander and Treva 
stand up together, father and mother near, Jerome 
standing near Alexander. Florence Aspenwall of 
London rings the door bell. Bacell answers the call.) 

Treva. I have never told her of this, what will 
I do. 

Mother. Why, Treva, just invite her in, you 
will have to make a clean breast of it. Now lead 
her in, Bacell. 

Enter Florence. What does this all mean? 

Treva. What — / am to be married. 

Florence. Why in the world 

Treva. I wanted to surprise you; we are having 



178 PLAYS 

a quiet wedding, but as you are here, you might stay. 
How did you happen to come? 

Florence. O, I have had such horrid dreams of 
you of late, I have been forced to come. But I can 
see all now. They say dreams always come out just 
the opposite. O, I am so lucky anyhow to have come 
just as I have. 

Treva. As long as you are here, you may act as 
bridesmaid. 

McLaren. Well, we are losing time. (As Flor- 
ence looks at him with a piercing glance she questions 
herself, where she has seen the man before. I do not 
like his looks, he does not act right, she thought. 
They stand and are married, and leave for London 
at once. 

Curtain. 

Act IV 

Treva's father's city home on Victoria St., London. 
(Father and mother are sitting at the table waiting 
for the London News, as Alexander rings. Alex and 
Treva enter and embrace each other. Bacell con- 
gratulates them in his way. Florence enters, embraces 
them. Florence has stayed at their home at the re- 
quest of Mrs. De Veau. Jerome rings. Is met by 
Bacell, and congratulates them. Bell rings. Aaron 



PLAYS 179 

Thompson and Sister Eva, Treva's London neighbors, 
enter. As congratulations are proffered, they sit down 
to a repast with Alexander as host and Treva as 
hostess. They drink to their future happiness. Je- 
rome proposes a short game of whist. They, eight 
in number, proceed to dance after this. Bell rings.) 

Enter Bacell. Master De Veau, a telegram for 
you. 

De Veau. Bring it hither. (Father faints. Falls 
over. They rush to him. Treva reads aloud) 

Mr. Leon de Veau, or to whom it may concern. 

Your daughter Treva was falsely married to Alexander von 
Kent. McLaren was an impostor. 

Alexander. What can this mean? Is it true? 
Jerome, answer this, I demand of you. Have you 
and Levings worth contrived to ruin me? (Jerome 
hangs his head with no answer.) 

Treva. What can it all mean? 

Florence. I did not like the looks of that Rev- 
erend McLaren. I have seen him before. I think 
he is an impostor. I thought something wrong the 
evening of the wedding. 

Treva. If Jerome is guilty, Alexander, you are 
guilty. You certainly would have known of it, a 
man of the world as you are. 

Jerome. Yes, he did know it, and I knew it. He 
got me to do it. He wanted you, but did not want 



i8o PLAYS 

to even be tied to you. I am sorry I did it, and espe- 
cially for this scoundrel, as I love you so well. 

Treva. You, you infamous wretch, you have 
ruined me, you have crushed my heart, my parents' 
hearts, my happiness, my reputation ! Go, you scoun- 
drel, go! (Alexander at this moment knocks Jerome 
down. Father orders them out of the house.) 

Alexander. I will prove my innocence. (Bacell 
drags Jerome out.) 

Alexander. O, believe me, Treva, do not treat 
me thus, let me stay. 

Treva. No, go! (As she points to the door.) Go! 
go! go! Never darken my door again. (He goes. 
Treva falls to the floor.) 

Curtain falls. 

Act V 

Interior of Mr. Leon de Veau's home on Victoria 
St., London. 

(Three years have elapsed since the fatal wedding. 
Alexander von Kent becomes despondent and melan- 
choly, and accepts a position in Lucknow, India, under 
the British Consulate. Nevertheless, Treva's scorn 
does not alter his love for her, as he knows as no 
other does, that he is innocent, but his being from 
her so long, and the scenery of India, with his mel- 



PLAYS i8i 

ancholy temperament, inspires him to write the most 
beautiful lyric poetry. So beautiful indeed, that he 
not only is lionized in India, but by the English 
speaking people in general, and through the publica- 
tion of this poetry, by the help of the Viceroy and 
Vicerine of India, he has attained both wealth and 
honor. Treva reads his poems in the papers and 
periodicals. Her father is facing financial embarrass- 
ment, which has got to be overcome soon or he will 
lose all. Jerome is paying attention to Treva. Treva 
is reluctant to have him call, but he is rich and offers 
to help her father out of his financial difficulties, if 
she will accept his proposal. Her father is anxious 
she should on this account.) 

Enter Treva. Oh, if I had not been so rash with 
Alex, why did I treat him so. I feel he is innocent. 
A man who can write such pathetic lines, lines that 
the whole world reads with such assiduity, can not 
be what I have accused him of being, but it is too 
late now. All is lost. 

Enter Father. Treva dear, I know you do not 
love Jerome as you should, but you will have to marry 
him, as he told me at the club last evening that for 
your hand he would help me out of my troubles, and 
it thus lies in your power. Treva, I will fail and be 
imprisoned for my speculations if you do not. Will 
you, will you for me and mother, Treva? 



1 82 PLAYS 

Treva. (In pensive mood for a moment.) Yes, 
father, for you, for you and mother, but I dislike him 
so, but to save you and mother I must, I will, father. 

Father. God bless you. All will come out well 
in the end I know, my angel. (Bell rings.) 

Enter Bacell. Mr. Jerome. 

Treva. Bid him enter. 

Enter Jerome. Good evening, Treva. 

Treva. Good evening. 

Jerome. Good evening, Mr. De Veau. 

De Veau. Good evening, Jerome. I will leave 
you to yourselves now, good night. 

Jerome. Treva, I have something of the utmost 
importance to us both. Treva, I love you, I love 
you madly, I cannot live without you, you must an- 
swer my request and answer it in the affirmative. 
Treva, you must be my wife, will you, will you? 
(Treva is silent for a moment.) Answer me, Treva. 
You know how your father is fixed. I have agreed 
to help him out of his troubles. He has used the 
bank's money and has lost, and if he is not helped 
soon in replacing the amount he will be imprisoned. 
Answer me, there is but one way, answer that yes 
or no. 

Treva. Yes. (In a low whisper.) 

Jerome. God bless you, I will make you happy, 
Treva. I know I can. 



PLAYS 183 

Treva. Only death can make me happy now. I 
have given my answer which I will abide by, but 
will ask one favor of you, that is, leave me to myself 
now. I am not feeling well this evening, and wish 
to be alone. 

Jerome. I will do it to please you, as you have 
me, so kiss me good night. Good night. 

Treva. (Alone to herself as she walks the floor.) 
My God, must I marry this infamous wretch that I 
feel in my heart has caused my broken heart. How 
can any good come from him. Well, I suppose I 
must marry him for father's sake. Oh, if I could 
see Alex just one moment. The only balm for my 
burning breast is his sweet caresses. God bring him 
to me. (Treva picks up the evening paper and sees 
a short poem, 'Tove's Intrigue," by Alexander von 
Kent, of Lucknow, India. She glances over it. The 
last verse she reads aloud as follows : 

An English maiden far away, 

Once loved me dear, 
Intrigue of others did allay, 

Her love I fear 
Tho "What ever is, is right," Pope 

From here so far inspired my pen, 
To write for honor, wealth and hope 

And win my Treva back again, (Bell rings). 

Enter Florence. Why, Treva, how unhappy you 
look, what is the matter, dear? 



i84 PLAYS 

Treva. Florence, I am so glad you called. It is 
late, I know, but God must have sent you here. Flor- 
ence, I have got to marry that wretch Jerome, you 
know why. I told you about papa's troubles, and he 
is going to help papa or I would not look at him. 

Florence. Treva, do you not wish you had held 
your temper now, and not been quite so abrupt with 
Alex. Just think what he has got to be. 

Treva. Alex, dear boy, how I have used him, yet 
I love him, I can never love another. 

Florence. Yes, and he loves you, Treva. Here 
is a letter I got this A. M. from Lucknow, India, 
from Alex. Read it. 

Treva. (Reading.) 

Lucknow, India. 
Florence : T have heard that Treva's father is in straightened 
circumstances. I am rich now, and will soon come home. I 
will not see any of the family suffer. Though Treva has treated 
me so badly do not tell him. I will surprise them all when I 
do come. Your far-away friend, 

Alexander von Kent. 

My dear boy, how I wish you were here tonight 
(as she kisses the letter and crushes it in her hands), 
but he is in India, and I am here, I do not know what 
to do. Father must be helped by the eighteenth. To- 
day is the sixteenth. I must marry him. O God, 
have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me. O, 
but Florence, I have good news for you, dear. Dear 



PLAYS 185 

Brother Henry has come home. You know he has 
been gone over a year, and he said he loved you for 
all that had happened. Why did you act so abrupt 
with him? Florence, he loves you and said he could 
not live without you. 

Florence. When did he come? God bless his 
dear heart, I have suffered everything since I told 
him to leave me that evening, but I did not mean it 
the next moment, though could not retrieve what I 
did. Has he forgiven me? 

Treva. Yes, Florence. Florence, he is in the 
library. He does not know you are here. Shall I 
ring for him? 

Florence. Yes, yes, but O, I can hardly face him. 
O what will I do, what can I say? (Treva rings.) 

Enter Bacell. 

Treva. Tell Henry to come in, Florence Aspen- 
wall wishes to see him. 

Enter Henry. (As he opens the door he stands 
for a moment. Florence hears him open the door. 
She turns and puts her arms around Treva's neck and 
sobs and is reluctant about turning, but Henry ad- 
vances toward her slowly and speaks in a low tone.) 
Florence, Florence, have you forgiven me, have you 
forgiven me? (When she turns and looks into his 
eyes, they embrace each other with emotion.) 



1 86 PLAYS 

Florence. It is all my fault, Henry. I will know 
how dear you are now. God bless you. 

Curtain. 

Act VI 

Interior of the Church of England. (Friends are 
waiting. The organ plays the wedding march. 
Father and mother sit at the altar. The vicar is 
ready as the organ begins to play. Treva and Jerome 
march in toward the altar. As Treva walks along 
she repeats to herself: "If Alex were only here!" 
At this moment Alex enters pale with anguish as 
he steps to the front, his hat drawn down over his 
eyes.) 

Alex. (Cries out.) My God, Treva, are you to 
marry that villain! (As Alex turns toward the altar, 
they are being married. Treva sees him. She is 
excited, and does not answer the priest's questions. 
Alex looks anxious and beckons for her to come.) 

Vicar. Treva, will you love, honor, and obey 
Jerome? (She does not answer, or so low it is not 
audible.) 

Vicar. Do you take Jerome for your true and 
lawful husband? 

Treva. No! No! (She slips the ring from her 



PLAYS 187 

finger, throws it to the floor, and rushing towards 
Alex they embrace each other.) 

Alex. (Exclaims.) Just in time! I will take 
you, love you, save you and father. God how good 
you are! 

Curtain. 



THE MAN BEHIND THE SCREEN 
Cast of Characters 

Mr. Minor Gordon Husband 

Mrs. Stella Gordon His Wife 

Mr. Marion McFall 

A single man, at one time a lover of Mrs. Stella Gordon 
Miss Stella Ransom . . Cousin of Mrs. Gordon, an Old Maid 

The scene is a drawing room in a cozy little suite 
of rooms in a flat, the home of Minor Gordon and 
wife, Stella, also his cousin Stella, who has made her 
home with them. 

Enter Minor Gordon. (As he takes a seat by a 
little center table he mutters to himself as his wife 
enters.) I and Stella have been married five years 
today, and God knows what a pleasant five years it 
has been, never a word between us, no secrets, nothing 
but love. 

Enter Stella Gordon. Good evening. Minor 
dear (as she places her arms about his neck). You 
are not reading the evening paper as usual. Here it 
is right before you, but you have not looked at it. 
You have such a pensive look on your face. What 
were you thinking, dear, as I entered? 



PLAYS 189 

Minor (smiles and places his arm around Stella's 
neck.) I was thinking of you, dearest, thinking of 
today being the fifth anniversary of our marriage, 
and what a pleasant five years it has been. 

Stella. Yes, dearest, that is true, today is the 
seventeenth of June. I had never thought until you 
had spoken of it. O how time does fly when you are 
in love. 

Minor. Yes, indeed it does. I hope we may al- 
ways be as happy as now. Dear, I am sorry now 
that I thought of this evening being our fifth anni- 
versary that I am going out; but I must go to the 
Club tonight. I promised Marion McFall I would 
go tonight and also others, so I will have to go. 

Stella. Well, I will let you off tonight, dear, but 
you must stay at home the rest of the week every 
evening. 

Minor. Yes, Stella dear, I will (as he takes his 
hat, kisses her, and goes to the club.) 

Enter Stella Ransom. Has Minor gone? 

Stella Gordon. Yes, he has gone to the Club. 

Stella Ransom. O, he is always going to the 
Club, the Club, the Club. Dear, these men, these 
men, how they do contrive to get away from their 
wives. O, if I had a husband, I bet he would stay 
home with me. Then, too, he w^ould not care to go 
from me, for I have such magnetic influence over 



190 PLAYS 

men. Of course you know I could have married 
long since, but it was my fault I have not met my 
ideal of a man yet, unless it is Mr. McFall. He 
comes the nearest being my choice of all the men I 
have met. (She says this in an old maidish way 
with an arrogant, independent, self-confident manner.) 

Stella Gordon. Yes, cousin, did you not know 
that prior to my marriage to Minor, I thought of 
Marion as you do. I idolized, I loved him. He was 
my first, my best, my only love. I married for spite. 
We had a quarrel and fell out with each other as 
lovers often do. Then Minor came along and I mar- 
ried him. O, why did I do it, why did I do it, my 
own judgment at the time told me I was doing some- 
thing I would regret. (As she passes up and down 
with her head drooping, Stella Ransom says nothing 
as yet, but has a disgusted look on her face as she 
stares at Mrs. Gordon.) But it is too late now, too 
late. I married Minor and I must live with him, 
perform my domestic duties, and go on as I have in 
the past, pretending to care for him, yet I do care 
for him. I respect him, and would do anything for 
him, for he is deserving of it all. He is an upright, 
honest, devoted man, but after all I cannot say, I 
love, for I do not. 

Stella Ransom (in a sarcastic manner). Well, 
well, I am surprised at you. I never would have 



PLAYS 191 

thought this of you. You must be losing your mind. 
It is disgusting, simply disgusting, to hear this con- 
fession you have just uttered. Well, well, I gave 
you credit for having more sense than that. Well, 
well, I am astonished. Why did you not tell me 
before ? 

Stella Gordon. I have never felt in the mood as 
I do just now. Well, feeling as I do has never 
caused any domestic infelicity. I have borne up and 
have appeared the best I could to be happy and to 
love him at all times, so I am deserving of some 
commendation at least, do you not think so? 

Stella Ransom. No, no, I do not. I think you 
should be ashamed of yourself. I have no sympathy 
or pity for you. Now you must learn to love Minor 
and forget Marion, for I am sure he cares for me — 
he has been here to see me but few times, but I can 
see a thing or two. Well, I promised to go to the 
Thimble Bee tonight, and I must be going, so good- 
night and think over what you have said to me. 
Good night (as she steps out). 

Stella Gordon (sits alone and mutters to her- 
self). Yes, she thinks Marion cares for her. If she 
only knew what I do (as she laughs aloud), that all 
he comes to see her for is to be near me. (The 
door bell rings.) 

Enter Marion McFall. Good evening, my dear- 



192 PLAYS 

est Stella, good evening. Are you alone and have 
you got to sit out this long evening by yourself. O, 
if I could only be here with you. (He sits on the 
arm of her chair and places his arm about her neck.) 
How different things might have been, Stella, had you 
not married. O ! cruel fate. I can never marry now% 
of you I dream and write and think all the time. By 
the way, Stella, I have wa-itten a short poem today, 
and it was my love for you that inspired me to write 
(as he bends over to kiss her). 

Stella. No, no, that will not do, Marion, I must 
not let you kiss me. You must remember, I am a 
married woman. We have gone far enough as it is, 
but do let me see your poem. I wish to know the 
theme. Have you it here with you? 

Marion. Yes, here it is in my pocket, but I can- 
not let you see it as yet, for I have not corrected it, 
and I also wish to copy it on my typewriter. I will 
show it to you when I come again. 

Stella. Very well, do not forget now. 

Marion. Well, I must be going, I am late now. 
I promised to meet your husband at the Club tonight. 
Just think of it, my being as false as that to sit and 
talk, play billiards, smoke and be sociable with the 
man I care so little for, one whom I am jealous of, 
one who I feel is in my place, but you know I must 
be friendlv to be able to come to the house so I can at 



PLAYS 193 

least see you. So good-night, dear (as they clasp 
hands and part). 

Enter Stella Ransom. After I left you I felt I 
had not been perhaps the pleasantest to you, so could 
not enjoy myself at the Thimble Bee until I came 
home and made restitution for what I said, and Mrs. 
Lovelace wants you to come back with me to the Bee. 
I told her you were alone this evening, and were un- 
usually lonely anyway. Now do come, will you, you 
will enjoy it so much. You know they are such 
pleasant gatherings. We discuss such interesting 
topics, now do come. 

Stella Gordon. No, no, it is out of the question. 
I do not care to go to hear a lot of old maids gossip 
about the doings of their neighbors. It would be 
very tiresome to me. 

Stella Ransom. Old maids, old maids, umph, 
who do you call old maids? Not myself, I hope. If 
some twenty-four years, I feel as frisky and young 
as a lamb. Well, stay at home if you want to and 
think of your lost one Marion. I am sure he does not 
think of you (as she goes out again). 

Stella Gordon. How different we are, what a 
difference in people. (The door bell rings.) 

Enter Marion McFall. Why, what brings you 
here at this hour. Why, Marion, what makes you 



194 PLAYS 

look so worried, and I smell liquor on your breath. 
What is the matter, what is it? 

Marion. My God, Stella, at the Club tonight as 
I and Minor were playing billiards, we both took 
our coats off and laid them on a large chair near by. 
The chair was knocked over by some one and several 
old letters fell out of my pocket, among them was 
the poems I wrote which I was telling you about. 
The porter picked them up, placed them in his pocket 
by mistake. I never missed them until after Minor 
had gone. I have looked for him to demand them, 
but cannot find him anywhere. What can I do, what 
shall I do? At the bottom of the poem I wrote ex- 
plaining the lines of the second verse, and telling how 
much I loved Stella and how you had reciprocated my 
love as much as you could under the circumstances. 
What shall I do, what can I do to get the poem. 
(They hear someone on the steps.) 

Stella. That is Minor, now hurry, do go— no, 
'tis too late. What will he think if he catches you 
here at this time with me alone. Hurry, hurry, get 
behind the screen. (She hurries and places the screen 
about him in one corner of the room.) 

Enter Minor Gordon. (As he enters he does not 
give her the usual good evening and kiss her. He 
looks very stern, walks up and down the room, throws 
his hat clear over in the corner behind the screen 



PLAYS 195 

where Marion is, not knowing, of course, that Marion 
is there.) What makes you look so nervous this 
evening, guilty conscience, I suppose. Stella, how 
you have been deceiving me for the last five years, 
you wretch, pretending to love me and love another. 
O woman, you will be the profligate, not me. 

Stella. (Interrupting him.) Why what 

Minor. (As he stamps his foot on the floor.) Not 
a word out of you. Wait, woman, wait, I have the 
floor now. 

Stella. Why Minor, what 

Minor. Stop, stop, not a word from those false 
lips of yours. I have found a poem written by your 
admirer or lover, our friend, our intimate friend, 
Marion McFall. Here it is, read it (as he hands it 
over to her.) There he puts his love in verse and 
his explanatory notes below, so you can thoroughly 
understand every meaning. Now, Stella, we have 
been married five years tonight. Little did I think in 
the early part of the evening that our fifth anniver- 
sary would be celebrated in this manner. You have 
deceived me. You shall not again. Get on your 
things, you shall not stay under my roof another 
night. Leave me, leave me. 

Enter Stella Ransom. (She takes in the situa- 
tion at a glance, but stands there dumbfounded, not 
saying a word. Marion McFall comes from behind 



196 PLAYS 

the screen just as Minor is saying "Leave me'* the 
last time. Minor Gordon falls back in a much sur- 
prised gesture.) 

Minor. And what does this mean, and here he is 
in my house. My God, my God. 

Marion. (In a heavy tone.) No, no, she shall not 
leave this house. She shall not leave for one moment. 
You are beside yourself over that poem that was 
accidently placed in your pocket. Calm yourself, calm 
yourself, let me have the poem. See here, did I say 
anything in the poem that should cause this emotion 
in you. I called here at this hour to get the poem, 
as when I missed it I was afraid you would form a 
wrong idea. But the poem has nothing to do with 
your wife Stella at all. It is this Stella, Stella Ran- 
som (as he starts for her and takes her hand) at this 
moment. 

Minor. (As he looks down to the floor as though 
ashamed of what he has done, he says to his wife, as 
he hugs her up close to him). Will you forgive me? 

Curtain. 



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